Mesh
by anilkex
Summary: Sequel to Quantum AU and Snippets. CanonSam and CanonCrowley travel to the You Are The Third Winchester AU (they are not aware of the horrible name) to enlist help in tracking down Metatron and a missing CanonDean. Cue all sorts of angsty moments, action, and adventure, as Sam's main hope to save Dean centers on people who, for him, have been dead for years. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

_**So! Let's see.**_

 _ **This is the third in what I'm calling the Quantum Series. I rock at names. It's a MESH of CANON and my AU (see what I did there), picking up where Quantum AU and Snippets left off. If you haven't read Quantum AU or Snippets...you probably should. If you check my profile, there is a vague description of those stories.**_

 _ **This story will be told by both Canon Sam and AU Kate.**_

 _ **By the way...if you are not familiar with my You Are The Third Winchester AU (still a shitty name…), please check my profile. Those of you who want to know where this story fits in that AU timeline...well, it's the most recent.**_

 _ **If you're thinking, "Aw shit, I hate me an AU and especially a sibling fic"...I say...give mine a try. They've surprised many a reader.**_

 _ **Disclaimer for this WHOLE story: I own nothing related to this show. I just play with other people's toys.**_

 _ **Enough rambling.**_

 _ **xxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

 _ **Sam...**_

Sam slowly spun in circles, trying to get his bearings without flipping the fuck out. "Where are we?" He spoke barely above a whisper, one hand running through his hair, nervous energy that'd built for almost six months churning for release.

"Where...when...all very good questions."

Sam tossed a sour look over his shoulder, dropping the arm to his side.

Crowley grimaced. "I'm not sure, but it looks like we're in a park."

Sam's sour look increased tenfold, escalating to a patented bitchface.

Hands splayed before him, Crowley protested. "What do you want me to say? Like you, I just got here. The spell didn't come with a travel brochure."

"One would think curing you meant an improved demeanor."

"One would think. Luckily, my endearing personality prevailed."

Sam snorted, running the fingers of his uninjured arm across the rough stubble blanketing his chin. Yes, they were in a park. But where? And _why?_ With a sigh, he turned. "There's a sign…" He made his way to a wooden post, topped with a small plaque. When he finished reading it, he shook his head and laughed. "I don't fucking believe it," he murmured.

"What? What's it say?" Crowley stepped to his side, raising his eyebrows as Sam gestured at it. "What could possibly be... _Oh_. Okay. Deansville Park. Ha. Ha. Haha." He sighed heavily, looking around. "No one's here, but something doesn't feel right."

Sam's eyes sharpened, and he reached for a weapon. "What do you mean?"

Crowley shook his head, lips pursed. "Not sure. Her blood spilled here. That much is certain. What I'm not sure of, is... _hmmmm…_ " His voice trailed off, his face pensive.

"Crowley?"

Squinting, Crowley slowly stepped away from the sign, nodding his head at a path leading into the woods. "This way."

Curious, Sam followed Crowley, both demon knife and gun drawn and ready. Crowley glanced over his shoulder. "I sense angelic action, Moose. Those won't be helpful."

Sam grimaced, tucking the demon knife away and awkwardly drawing an angel blade, his cast catching on the fabric of his shirt. "Lead the way."

They walked carefully, eyes everywhere. Sam could _feel_ it - something _not right_ was definitely in the wind, forcing nerves beyond their breaking point to strain even further. Every step matched a ragged breath, forced through his mouth, in an effort to keep up with the hammering in his chest.

The trees swayed gently in a cool breeze, while the sun still provided a decent amount of light. The path, canopied by autumn colored leaves, abruptly ended in a small clearing.

Crowley pointed at a tree. "There." Hurrying over, he knelt, examining the trunk. Bark appeared to have been stripped, as if someone slid down it, landing in a flattened spot at the base.

"There's no blood," Sam argued.

"There's no blood _now_ , but there _was_. You just can't see it. Someone or some _thing_ was screwing around here. I'm not sure what happened, but I can _sense_ it. She bled on this tree." He stood, dusting flecks of bark off his hands, and looked around. "It's been a few weeks, but the residue is still…" He gestured with his hand. "... _lingering_."

A few _weeks?_ They just locked on it five _minutes_ ago.

Questions churned.

How much blood did she lose? How hurt was she? Was she even _okay?_ Sam adjusted his grip on the blade, unsuccessfully trying not to dwell on what happened to her. The priority was getting to Dean, which was still a long ways off.

 _But_...getting to _Kate_ was tangible, much more imminent, and absolutely crucial as well. He clung to the knowledge that she was close...and it fueled him forward.

Sam swallowed hard. "Alright. But, no danger now, right?"

Crowley shook his head.

His heartbeat began to settle. _Some_ what. "And Kate's not here?"

Again, Crowley shook his head, sighing.

He knew she wouldn't be there, but that didn't stop the stab of disappointment running through him. Clenching his jaw, Sam stowed the weapons. "Then let's get out of here and find a ride to Sioux Falls."

 **xxxxx**

There were hardly any cars in the nearest lot, and the ones that _were_ there were all spread out, making a covert theft nearly impossible. If anyone walked by, they'd know what he was up to.

So, Sam stood staring, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other, trying to decide which car to steal. None of them were remotely like Baby, so Sam's ability to choose fled the building. After a minute, Crowley sighed, nudging Sam forward. "Always choose foreign, Sam." With purposeful strides, Crowley was at a Toyota in seconds, laying a hand on the frame and smiling when the doors unlocked and the engine purred to life.

It took a moment for Crowley's words to register, not to mention his solution to the covert auto theft problem. Sam was preoccupied as rapid fire memories of Dean, commenting on cars, particularly his disdain for not buying American, flashed through his mind. He brought a trembling hand to his mouth, pulling at his chin a little as he fought to regain control of the emotions threatening to spill forth in a stupid, fucking parking lot.

With a casual, practiced, eyeball sweep of the lot, both men climbed inside. After a quick apology to Baby, Sam drove them through the gates, tossing his phone at Crowley. "I know we're in Wisconsin, and I know the general direction to Bobby's, but I'm not sure on specifics. Would you look it up? His address is - "

In a soft voice, Crowley interrupted. "I'm familiar with the address, Sam. It's okay - I'll take care of it."

Sam opened his mouth, only to immediately close it, choosing to simply nod instead. Since the third trial, Crowley's invaluable assistance had been unwavering. His genuine repentance was no longer something Sam needed to get used to - it just _was_. Without his help, Sam would never have gotten this far, and he desperately needed to be even further.

 _Still_...

It was moments like this...when Sam had to recall _why_ Crowley already knew Bobby's address...that it was _weird_.

 _Really_ fucking weird.

Sam chewed the inside of a cheek, one of the many nervous tics acquired since Dean's absence, to steady his nerves. Both sides of his mouth swelled with uneven lumps from the near constant gnawing.

The headaches were another story. The incessant thrumming or the sporadic icepick jabs were everyday occurrences, sometimes blinding him with their intensity. It was okay, though, because Sam barely felt anything else, including the sores in his mouth, the broken bone under the cast, or the dozen other ways his body was falling apart from stress.

Physical white noise.

As Crowley deftly swiped his fingers across the screen, entering information so the phone would connect to a satellite, he casually intoned, "You're doing it again."

Sam shifted in his seat. "Doing what?"

Crowley paused, glancing up, mimicking Sam's bitchface. "Really?"

Sam huffed. "Just find me a road." He didn't mean to sound gruff. He never did. But that was how he sounded now, all the time.

He couldn't help it.

"I am," Crowley replied, unfazed, as usual, by Sam's tone. "But honestly, if you don't take it easy - "

"I'll take it easy when Dean is safe."

" - you'll drop before that can happen." Crowley's eyes returned to the phone. " _She'll_ make you see reason," he murmured.

" _She'll_ be as ramped up as I am."

Crowley tilted his head from side to side, acquiescing. "True, but she'll take care of you. And you need that." He paused. " _Badly_."

Sam let out a breath. It was an old conversation he'd had with Kevin and Charlie, too. He knew he was running on fumes. Fumes of fumes. But Dean was gone, and he wasn't going to stop looking. Not this time. "So, which road?"

Crowley sighed. "Take I-90 West…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Sam...**_

The drive was roughly six hours, according to the GPS on Crowley's phone. Glancing at his watch, Sam calculated they'd get to Bobby's at about ten.

He could do that. He and Dean...they'd driven farther on less. But...he had _Dean_. If Dean were there, he'd have them at Bobby's by nine. A quick sideways flicker of his eyes revealed Crowley, humming to the Carpenters while his leg bounced to the beat.

Not _quite_ the same thing.

The drive was pretty much devoid of conversation. Crowley understood Sam's moods, and had become very astute at knowing when to push, and when to back off.

This was definitely a _back off_ time.

For that, Sam was grateful. His headache had a headache, and a light tingling danced across his face and neck, making him shiver. He massaged his forehead and pushed the pedal closer to the floor.

At least the fever was mild, he assured himself, easily managed once they're done.

It could wait.

It _had_ to wait.

 **xxxxx**

They broke up the drive with a couple stops for gas, the bathroom (for Sam), ungodly amounts of caffeine (again, for Sam), and some Tylenol (most _definitely_ , for Sam).

He chased the pills with a couple Red Bulls, smiling a little at how _Dean_ that was. He hoped the budding fever would keep at bay...long enough for them to get to Sioux Falls. But he was fading… _fast_. Being so close to Kate was all that kept him going. He could rest once he got to her.

Crowley pressed his lips together in disapproval and worry. Raindrops began to fall, plunking against the windshield in a gentle rhythm. "I _can_ drive, you know. I was around when cars were first invented."

"I'll drive."

"Sam…"

"I said, I'll drive."

Crowley sighed, nonplussed. " _Fine_. Embrace your control issues. But if you need - "

"I _need_ to get to Kate."

And that ended that.

When they crossed the border to South Dakota, Crowley squinted through the intermittent swish of the wiper blades and casually asked, "Soooo...what's the plan?"

Sam blinked. "What do you mean?" The plan was: _Get To Kate_. What was hard about that?

Crowley nodded thoughtfully, fingers drumming against his leg. "I mean, did you think beyond pulling into Singer Salvage and reuniting with her? You have other things to consider, such as how John Winchester will respond to your arrival from lands beyond."

Sam shifted in his seat uneasily, a trembling hand running through his hair. _Fuck_. Honestly, he hadn't considered that at all. He _knew_ John was there, he knew they _all_ were there, but…he didn't… _shit_. His head was too fuzzy to process this correctly. A quick glance at the clock showed thirty minutes until Bobby's.

"I'll wing it."

Crowley cinched his mouth to the side. It was very _un-Sam_ …this not thinking something through.

But Crowley felt the temperature rise in Sam's body, sensed the once present focus start to slip away, and knew Sam was as vulnerable as he could possibly be, both emotionally and physically.

 _Thirty minutes._

"Alright, Moose. We'll wing it."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

I missed sleeping.

During the trials, I slept _so much_. Granted, it wasn't necessarily restful, but it helped pass the time, that's for sure. I wasn't dying anymore, I wasn't fucked up on Biblical aftermath, but I _remembered_.

The effects from my time in Hell were more pronounced, more _vivid_ , since I got to revisit The Cage to save Adam.

I also more keenly grieved the absence of my AU brothers, especially since I suspected angel foul play in my world. It wasn't that I doubted my family's ability to handle it. They just lacked… _experience_. They lacked a connection when trying to understand what we were up against.

And that connection included one _to me._

I never felt that before.

It was eating me up inside.

Tonight's particular nightmare didn't leave me screaming and waking up the house thinking Lucifer was in bed with me, but it did leave me breathless and disoriented. The headaches and general fuzziness from the angel wards didn't help, unless you count "help" as ramping up the nightmares and confusion.

Then _sure_ – they did a great job.

I'd been benched by Dad, and hadn't left the property since Adam's kidnapping. Dad and Dean were appropriately pissed to high heaven that Sam and I warded the house without them, and more importantly, that we wouldn't remove the wards even though they made me sick.

Sam's headache from the one sigil was manageable. He kept away from it, popped Tylenol once in awhile, and was fine.

Naturally, _my_ situation was a little more complicated. Every angel ward had an affect me, leaving me feeling like I just finished Trial One. My only reprieve was to leave the house, which left me vulnerable in their eyes, so I was confined. I tried to explain that I had rib tattoos, but it fell on deaf ears.

The porch became my best friend – close enough to the sigils to be annoying, but it was outside, so the effects weren't as strong. Booze was another good friend, but Bobby was hiding all the bottles, so… _yeah_.

After wiping the sweat off my face, I clumsily made my way downstairs, eager for some fresh air.

I got all the way to the door before getting caught.

"Where are you going?"

" _Jesus_ , Dean, I'm going outside." I reached for the doorknob, when a hand landed on my shoulder.

"Another nightmare?" This time, his tone was soft, tinged with worry.

It was _always_ tinged with worry.

Biting my lip, I nodded, angling my head so I could see behind me. Green eyes roamed over my face, judging how bad it was. He cupped my chin, running his thumb along my jaw. "Want more Advil?"

I hesitated. A steady regimen of pill popping kept the discomfort at a tolerable level… _most_ of the time. I _hated_ it. But my head _throbbed_.

Dean sighed. "I'll take that as a yes. Be right back."

Thunder rumbled in the distance as I sat on the swing, waiting for my drugs. Lightning flashed and the wind picked up, cool and fresh, with the promise of rain. The temperature had dropped significantly, and it felt fantastic on my skin.

The screen door opened, and out came Dean, pills and water in tow.

"What time is it?" I asked, reaching for the loot.

"About nine-thirty."

I took everything, like a good sister, even scooting over so he could sit. "Where is everyone?"

Dean dismissively waved his hand towards the house while plopping down next to me. "Looking up info on Mom's family. There are a fuckton of Campbells out there. It's ridiculous. Dad never told us." He pulled my legs onto his lap and began a rhythmic rocking. "Pretty sure he never kept track after she died."

"Is Dad still pissed about her being a hunter?"

Dean shrugged with one shoulder. "I dunno. I guess, but it doesn't matter, does it? We have to check, like it or not."

Nodding, I closed my eyes, enjoying the breeze. A steady drizzle began, providing a lulling soundtrack as we rocked on the porch.

I loved my time with Sam – I always did. But time with Dean was always so _easy_. He and Sam had their crazy bond, but I had two years of hunting with him, alone. We could sit for hours together, watching the stars, and just… _being_.

He wasn't _Other_ Dean, but he was _My_ Dean.

"What're you thinking over there?"

I smiled sweetly. "I'm thinking about how much I love you. How you're the best big brother in the universe, that I treasure _every_ _moment_ we - "

"Oh, shut the fuck up," he growled, rolling his eyes and pinching my calf. "You're such an ass."

I chuckled, mostly because he knew I was telling the truth.

Headlights appeared at the edge of the driveway, pausing a brief moment before turning up towards the house.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell's visiting this late?"

I shrugged. "Maybe Jody misses Dad." That's what I said, but I was pretty sure that wasn't it.

He sat up, lowering my legs to the floor. "Nah, those headlights are for a Toyota. She drives a Chevy." Without taking his eyes off the approaching car, he slowly got to his feet. "Go get Dad and Bobby."

I bristled at the command, but did as I was told anyway. Forgetting about the wards, I quickly crossed through the doorway without prepping myself for the invisible brick that hit me between the eyes. Stumbling, I caught myself on the door, before wobbling into the study.

Dad and Bobby paused their conversation when I entered. "You okay?" Dad asked warily, looking ready to leap up if needed, but preferring to sit back and let me get my sea legs.

"Yeah," I grunted, gesturing towards the door. "I just forgot… _nevermind_. Someone's here – pulling into the driveway. Dean told me to get you."

Bobby's eyebrows rose. "Who'd be coming this late?"

Dad dropped his pen and rose to his feet. "No clue. Let's check it out."

I turned to follow when he pointed at me. "Stay here."

Uh…' _scuse me?_ "Why – "

"Just do it, Kate."

Whoa, there – _Bobby?!_ You, _too?_

Too stunned to react, my two overbearing dads brushed past, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.

I'd gotten used to being treated more like an equal while I was gone for two years. I mean, come on. I stood up to Lucifer (well, _okay_ , not like, in a fight, but I _did_ face him), killed a Hellhound (albeit accidentally), _and_ I survived in multiple universes on my own (alright, not always on my game, but still…). Didn't I deserve a seat at the grown-ups table?

Feeling a tantrum rising, I took a minute to breathe deeply and calm down.

Did I mention that the wards made me crabby, too?

Well, they did.

Normally that crap didn't bother me. I could brush it off and move on with my day, recognizing where their bossiness came from. But sometimes…

"What's going on?" Sam strolled in, coffee mug in one hand, a file of papers in the other. "Who's Dad and Bobby talking to outside?"

I shook my head a little, both physically and mentally. "I dunno. I'm not old enough to be included on info like that."

Aw, crap.

The corner of Sam's mouth quirked up. "Oooo-kay. Why don't we just go find out anyway?"

I hated him. "I was _about_ to," I snapped, poking him in the ribs and making him dribble coffee on his shirt.

Although absolutely unfair, it was incredibly satisfying.

Being Sam, he simply rolled his eyes, sucking the coffee off his fingers. "Way to be mature, Kate." He moved past me, placing a backwards little kick at my shin, buckling my leg. "I'll meet you outside."

I loved him again.

Running fingers through my hair, I walked to the front door.

"You're not seeing her, until we know for sure who you are."

 _Huh…_

My inner preteen squealed, _Someone's here to see_ _ **me?**_ _Ooooh!_

My hunter side, the side that'd been to Hell, was more like, _Oh shit,_ _ **now**_ _what?_

My bitchy side was _pissed as fuck_ at being told to hide inside without knowing what was going on, especially when it _clearly_ involved me.

So, I marched my ass right onto the porch, ignoring the startled glare from Dad, taking in Dean's defensive stance and the shotgun in Bobby's hands pointed right at…

 _Um_ …

I completely froze.

Standing at the base of the steps, dripping wet, was _Sam_.

 _OtherSam._

At least...it _looked_ like him. Oh God, it looked _just like_ him.

 _He_ froze the second I came outside, mouth open, eyes _locked_ on me.

No one moved.

Then Sam closed his mouth, swallowed hard, and gave me this lopsided half-smile. "Hey…" His voice broke on that one syllable, and I was pretty sure my heart broke with it.

It was him. It _had_ to be him.

Still...I hesitated.

How could it be him?

"Kate…" Dad used his warning voice, but honestly? This wasn't his moment. I held up my hand to shut him up, and moved to the top of the steps.

My heart whumped in my chest, I was breathing erratically through my mouth, and all I could think of, was that I wanted him to be _that_ Sam, _more than anything_.

Sam tilted his head to the side, eyes calculating, sensing my uncertainty. "You look...very much not dead." He was trying to be lighthearted - I could see that. The words were spoken in relief, but I heard a tinge of horror, too, as we both remembered the last time we saw each other.

The corner of my mouth twitched. "Blood's on the inside, today."

We simultaneously huffed this little laugh, like the joke was hilarious, but not something to actually laugh at.

My eyes darted heavenward, and I called out for Cas.

He answered immediately. " _Are you okay?"_

At some point, that has _got_ to stop being the first thing people ask me. " _I need you…someone's here, and he – "_

That was as far as I got. There was a soft _whoosh!_ and Cas materialized next to me. I felt him check me over first, making sure I was okay, before turning to Sam.

Sam flinched at the sudden appearance. "You're alive! I…we…weren't sure after…" he trailed off, recognizing why Cas was there. "You can tell, right? Prove to them I'm telling the truth?" His voice was desperate, pulling at me.

"Is it him?" I whispered, eager and needing, wanting and hoping. Like a coiled spring, I was ready to launch if Cas gave the green light.

"He is human, and of your family. Whether he is the Sam Winchester you wish him to be, is for you to determine."

There was this collective gasp behind us, and I heard Bobby slip the safety back on the shotgun.

Okay, so not Leviathan or a shifter or an angel in disguise. Good..that was... _good_.

To me, Cas added, " _You did not answer me - are you okay?"_

I nodded, stepping to the edge of the stairs, feeling the rain splatter against my arms past the edge of the awning. " _I'm fine…"_ I leaned toward him, until our hands brushed. " _Thank you."_

His wing ghosted my cheek. " _I will leave you be, and check on you tomorrow, after your…reunion."_ And with that, he left.

"Kate…?"

I peered over my shoulder at my family…my _actual_ family. Wetting my lips, I took a deep breath.

"I need you to go inside. Give us a minute alone."

Dad glanced at Bobby, who glanced at Dean, who – " _Please_ ," I begged. "I need you to do this for me." I pointedly stared at Dad. "Trust me."

Dad's jaw set, his eyes dancing towards Sam. In a low voice, he asked, "Is he really…?"

"I think so. I just…I need a minute to make sure." My voice cracked, my face reflecting the emotional turmoil within.

" _Jesus_ ," Bobby swore. "We'll be right inside. C'mon, John. Give her some space."

Nodding slowly, Dad focused back on me. Without a word, he kissed me on the forehead, and tugged on Dean's sleeve. "Let's go."

It took Dean a second longer to drag his eyes off Sam, who looked so much older than the one inside. He blew out a breath. "Yeah, okay."

As soon as the door shut, I pivoted, and began a quick assessment. He looked absolutely _terrible_.

I took a step down, grabbing the railing for support and in an effort to hold myself back. I spent time with a lot of Sam Winchesters…and after all the fucking around recently, I needed to be sure.

"So…last time we stood here…"

Sam straightened, wiping rain off his face. "We were about to start the third trial, trying to trap Crowley. You pointed out your bedroom." He pointed to the correct window. "Remembering living here…then we went to the chapel, and..."

Oh, _JesusChrist_ , good enough.

I rocketed down the steps and into his arms, slamming him back against the car. Burying my face in his neck, I held on with everything I had, crying and murmuring his name. In response, he tightened his hold on me, sobs wracking his body.

I have no idea how long we stayed there. A particularly loud crack of thunder jolted us, and I gently placed my hands on either side of his face, staring into his eyes. I fucking drank him in, still not quite believing he was there.

Little details poked through.

His skin radiated warmth, _too much_ warmth for someone currently standing in a cold shower.

Sunken eyes blinked sluggishly, and although happy to see me, something dark shared that space.

Then it hit me – _Where was Dean?_ Oh, shit… _ohshitohshitohshit_ …

Sam sensed my shift immediately. "He's not dead."

I closed my eyes, sighing in relief.

"But he's in trouble."

 _Aaaand_ they flew open again. "What happened?"

Eyes still locked on me, Sam choked out, "Metatron. Metatron took him as his vessel."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Immediately After The Third Trial...**_

 _Vaguely aware of Dean groggily waving him on, Sam tripped and stumbled his way across the chapel in an effort to get to his sister's side. Crowley, sobbing hysterically, repeatedly thanked Kate in between ramblings about redemption._

 _Castiel softly called Kate's name, touching her cheek. When his voice became a little insistent, Sam felt bile rise into his throat. By the time he reached her, Cas was gently wiping away a thin trail of blood trickling out of her nose._

 _Before he could get on his knees, she choked, sputtering blood from her mouth, her nose, her_ _ **eyes**_ _._

" _No!_ _ **Kate!**_ _Oh my_ _ **God**_ _...Cas,_ _ **please**_ _,_ _ **do**_ _something!" Sam dropped to the floor, cradling her in his arms, trying in vain to stop the bleeding._

 _Cas whipped around, his voice thundering. "_ _ **Metatron!**_ "

 _Cas disappeared, leaving Sam holding his sister, her face contorted in pain while her blood poured all over him. She tried to grab his shirt, but missed, her hand falling feebly to her side. All he could do was sob her name while futilely sopping up blood with the hem of his shirt._

 _A bright light filled the chapel, coupled by a high pitched whine, forcing Sam to shield his face. Once again, Cas yelled for the Scribe, then everything fell silent._

 _When Sam looked down at Kate's body, it lie limp and lifeless in his arms._

" _ **Dean! Shit**_ _...Kate? Kate,_ _ **please**_ _..._ _ **Dean!**_ "

 _Cas ran back, tense and upset. "Dean's not here, Sam."_

 _For a second, Sam was pretty sure he misunderstood. Then he figured,_ _ **Cas**_ _misunderstood. How could Dean be gone?_ _ **Their sister was dead in his arms**_ _._

 _Besides, where could he go with a broken leg?_

 _Sam wiped at his eyes, not caring that he was covered in blood. "_ _ **Don't fuck with me**_ _, Cas. Heal him so we can...she's...we have to - "_

 _Cas crouched next to Sam, clearly torn. "Sam, Kate's - "_

" _ **We can bring her back!**_ " _Sam roared, words and tears catching in his throat as he fully understood Dean's seemingly rash decision several years ago in Cold Oak._

 _Unfazed by Sam's vehement tone, Cas placed a hand on Kate's temple, removing all traces of blood, and closing her eyes. Sam sagged when he looked at Castiel - all he read was sorrow - no hope whatsoever._

" _No...nonononono!_ _ **No!**_ _Where the_ _ **fuck**_ _is Metatron?_ _ **Dean!**_ _I need you!" He pulled Kate closer, sobs shaking his entire body._

 _Cas gently took hold of Sam's arm. "Sam, listen to me. Dean is not here. Something happened with Metatron."_

 _Sam tore his eyes off Kate to stare at Cas. "What_ _ **the fuck**_ _are you talking about?!"_

 _Noting how badly Sam was shaking, Cas gently helped him lower Kate's body to the floor. "I heard Metatron talking to Dean...something about Kate, and asking for permission to help her. Before I could get to them. Metatron entered Dean's body and left."_

 _All Sam could do was stare, trying like hell to process Castiel's words. Dean would never..._

 _He lifted himself up to look where, just a few minutes ago, Dean lie on the floor with a twisted leg, telling him to get to Kate's side. He spied overturned furniture, a million glass shards littering the chapel, and…_

 _...the body of a frumpy-looking man, sprawled on the floor._

 _Dean was nowhere in sight._

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Third Winchester AU,**_

 _ **Kate…**_

I listened.

I listened, I heard, but I had trouble with the whole _understanding_ part.

Words tumbled out of Sam's mouth in a mad rush, like he'd waited forever to tell me this story.

And apparently, he had.

"...So we stepped into the sigil and showed up here."

" _Jesus_ , Sam…" Sadly, that was all I had.

His eyes slipped closed as he slumped against me, sighing. Heat poured off him, despite this whole body shivering thing that threatened to tip me over. A giant, shaking brother leaning against me was more than a match for my weakened condition. Add in my own anxiety, fear, anger, and incredulity, and _voila_ \- we were a cocktail of fucked up-ness.

I wanted a drink.

Sam muffled a sneeze against my shoulder, burrowing closer, a hand twisted in my shirt.

Scratch the drink - Sam needed me.

 _Melt down later._

At some point, we slid to the ground, hovering near a tire while Sam spilled his guts. The porch light helped me take another good look at him. No wonder he spoke so fast - it was obvious he didn't have much left in him.

I wiped the water off my face...and his. "Okay...okay... _hey_...let's...let's get you inside, out of the rain."

Nodding, he sniffled, wiping his eyes and taking a shaky breath. We clumsily got to our feet, one of his arms around my shoulders for support (how the _fuck_ did he break it?), the other still knotted in my shirt.

One step toward the house, and it occurred to me, "Sam...where's Crowley?"

He shook his head, briefly waving a hand around. "Somewhere. He's fine. Said he'd look out. 'S okay. He'll - " He broke off with a bitchy sounding cough, staggering backwards until his ass hit the car. He dragged me with, because hello, hand still attached to my clothing. My head smacked into his collarbone (like it didn't hurt enough already), actually causing stars to dance across my line of sight.

Trembling arms held me tight. "Don't leave...not again…just...don't... _please…_ "

 _Holy fuck_.

I never thought I'd hear this sort of sentimentality from this Sam, no matter how sick he was. It always got squelched in favor of head nods or forehead crinkles.

 _Time for bed._

My voice shook as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill down my face. "I won't - I promise. _I won't_. Come on...inside, okay?" I tried to keep it together, knowing we had to face my whole family in about _two minutes_ , and I had _no fucking idea_ how I'd do that.

I _really_ didn't want Feverish Sam to know that Fucked-Up Kate was freaking out because deep down inside, I didn't believe this was real.

How could I?

Didn't stop me from clinging to him until my muscles ached, though.

 _Hooray…_

It was slow going, but we got to the stairs and began the process of climbing them. My eyes flitted everywhere, trying to catch a glimpse of Crowley, but it was difficult trying to keep Sam upright, myself upright, not throw up, and scan the yard behind me all at the same time.

The second we reached the top, the door flew open, and several pairs of very worried eyes locked on the bizarre, emotional couple standing on the porch.

Dad came out, arms outstretched, to help us inside. Sam took one look at Dad, and froze. The fever must've totally taken over once the adrenaline rush wore off, because Sam actually whimpered a little, whispering in a broken voice, "I'll find him, Dad, I promise, I _will_. I just...I need a little more time. _Please_ don't be mad…"

 _Goddammit_.

More fucking tears.

I also knew that the last thing Sam needed was to see Dean... _my Dean_...in the hallway, next to a younger version of himself. That would most likely make his head explode. Surprisingly, Dad was one step ahead of me. With one look, he fully assessed the situation, his face softening while his eyes filled with worry.

Smoothly sidestepping to block our view of the house, he reached out and steadied Sam with one hand, while the other flapped behind his back, telling the others to move aside.

"Of course, you will... _Sam_. We'll help you, okay? Right now, let's get you inside. I wanna check you over."

Sam sluggishly nodded, stretching the hem of my shirt by wrapping it tighter around his fist. "Yeah...okay. I'm... _yeah_."

Dad bore some of Sam's weight, and together we got him through the now empty doorway.

The wards were particularly nasty, tonight. Maybe it was from my ramped up emotional state - I wasn't sure. But crossing the threshold brought stabbing pain behind both eyes. Blood rushed in my ears, whooshing in rhythm to my erratic heartbeat. My chest tightened, nausea hit, and I prayed I'd get up the stairs without passing out.

Because we needed _that_ drama on top of everything else.

I faltered the first two steps, to which Sam automatically responded with a firm hold on my shoulders. Fucking _love him_.

Upstairs, Dad hesitated a second, long enough for me to grunt, "My room."

I got a curt nod in response, as we navigated down the hallway. Practically falling onto my bed, Sam momentarily let go, only to grope wildly for my shirt after a violent tremor rocked him. I sat next to him, the heel of one hand pressed to the side of my head in an effort to keep my brains inside, the other brushing wet hair off his face.

"I'm right here. Not going anywhere." _Fuck_ \- I should've asked Cas to heal him.

Dad pursed his lips together. I could see the gears turning. "I'll get him some dry clothes and the med kit. Kate - you change, then take something for your headache."

Headache. _Ha_. This was _way_ beyond a headache. Avoiding Dad's stare, I deflected. "Dean gave me meds right before... _this_. I can't take anything right now. I'm fine. It's him I'm worried about."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dad drag a hand down his face, pulling at his chin, choosing his battles. "Stay put," then he left.

I closed my eyes for a second, biting my lip when Sam's hot forehead rested against mine, shoving the whole _This Is Real_ thing to the front of the line.

Get. A. Hold. Of. Yourself.

"C'mon, Sam...out of those clothes. Dad...John... _Dad…_ *sigh* he's getting you something dry to change into." I quickly planted a kiss on his forehead (I was borderline hysterical and he was too feverish to react) and extracted myself from his shockingly strong grip.

Fumbling fingers managed to pull the soaking wet shirt over his head. I tossed it into the hamper, where it landed with a squelchy thud. Once wet skin met the cool air, Sam sneezed again into cupped hands, groaning afterward.

I _really_ should've had Cas check him before poofing away.

I snagged a towel draped on a chair and dried off his chest and arms, vigorously rubbing his scalp to soak up most of the water from his hair.

Clutching the ends of the towel, his eyes locked on me as he rasped, "We need to start looking."

Of course we do.

"I know. But you need to get some sleep first, or you won't be in any condition to help whatsoever."

He snorted. "That's what everyone keeps saying."

I snorted back. "Everyone's right."

There was a soft knock on the door, and Dad came in carrying some clothes and the kit. He jutted his chin at me. "Go get changed."

Wide, hazel eyes darted between Dad and me, surprisingly accepting of his dead father barking orders at his not-really-sister from another reality.

Wonder how he'll be when this fever passes.

Cupping his cheek, I flashed a quick smile. "I'm just gonna change. I'll be right back." Reluctantly, he let go of my shirt with a nod, offering his own fleeting smile, highlighting bright pink cheeks.

Dad shook out a shirt and began helping Sam into it. "Go, Kate."

Swallowing down a snippy remark, because _I_ wasn't handling our dead father ( _his_ dead father…) barking orders as well as Sam, I grabbed some clothes from my dresser and weaved into the bathroom. The pain in my head/body hadn't really lessened, but I was starting to tolerate it better.

Not sure if that was good or bad.

Staring in the mirror, I was a little shaken at the sight of the girl staring back. Her eyes looked a little too wild, like she wasn't sure what the fuck was going on.

She didn't look all that sane.

...That sounded about right.

 _More Hooray…_

I returned in fresh clothes, towel-drying my hair, just as Sam pulled up some sweats, a thermometer jauntily sticking out of his mouth. A perky set of beeps greeted me as I sat back down, too busy helping Sam under the covers to grab it first.

Dad blew out a breath. "A hundred two. Time for some pills."

There was this part of me that was kinda glad Dad was there to take charge. Still reeling from Sam's news, Sam's arrival, Sam in _general_ , it was comforting to know what even though I couldn't bank on any of this being real, Sam was being taken care of.

That was more important.

But...there was a seriously territorial flare up taking place inside me. This was _**my**_ Sam - _not_ his. Dad wasn't supposed to be around when I was with this Sam, so what the fuck was he doing?

...As I said. Seriously fucked up.

I laid my palm against Sam's chest, gently pushing until his head landed on my pillow. A breathy sigh escaped his lips, unable to argue against the comfort being offered.

Pulling the blanket to his neck, I noted Dad rooting through the kit for Tylenol. Reaching over, I tapped the small pocket on the outside, signaling the medicine's location. Dad huffed, remembering that was where he shoved it.

Heavy-lidded eyes watched every move I made. I was fairly confident Sam's world view was fuzzy at best, so I kept my reactions to a minimum. Last thing I needed was a distraught, feverish Sam wielding a weapon because he misinterpreted what was going on. This Sam was way more dangerous than the one downstairs. His hand brushed my thigh, keeping contact, staying grounded.

At least one of us was.

His shivering slowed somewhat, and I began methodically carding my fingers through his hair. Lazy blinking soon followed, and I knew the medicine better get in him soon, or it wasn't going down at all. Holding out my hand, my eyes locked on Sam, I said, "Hey...let me." It wasn't bossy, like, 'I got this' and it wasn't dismissive, like, 'I can take it from here'. It _kinda_ asked permission, while _not_ asking, and Dad only hesitated a couple seconds before handing over three pills.

I cleared my throat. "Sam…"

"Hmm?"

"Take these for me, okay?"

Propping himself on elbows, Sam gestured for the pills, compliant, glassy-eyed, exhausted. They were dry swallowed before Dad could uncap a water bottle. I felt Dad's gaze, studying us, finally accepting yet another piece of evidence proving my curse was real. At that moment, my whole world lie in that bed, drunkenly blinking at me. Dad wasn't used to my whole world including other people.

 _Surprise_...

I cooed goofy noises, trying to sound soothing and comforting. Whether that was for me or him, I wasn't sure.

Dad just watched, arms folded.

I kind of expected Sam to be up for a while, catching up, trading information, maybe...maybe so excited to see me that he couldn't fall asleep. From what Sam said, he'd been dealing with Dean's disappearance for a while - at least several months. I'd been "alone" for only one month, and I was so revved up I couldn't see straight.

Projection, much?

Instead, whatever energy fueled him here seemed to have _completely_ drained away. He sunk into the bed, as if after all this time, he was just now able to slow down and take a minute to breathe. The compliance was unnerving, and very much not this Sam at all.

That alone spoke volumes.

And now more worry.

Unable to stay awake, Sam's eyes slid closed. He whispered, "Not like last time...can't stop…need your help..."

All the air in my lungs whooshed out as if I'd been punched. Dad's head tilted in question. I choked out, "Totally different, Sam. I'm here, and he knows...he _knows_...what you're doing."

His eyes sluggishly opened, looking all of twelve years old, needing approval and assurance. "Are you sure? Charlie said so, too, but - "

But Charlie and Kevin didn't know Dean like I did, so their word didn't hold water in Sam's frantic mind. "Charlie's right. I _know_ she is. This isn't Purgatory, Sam, and you're not alone. We'll find him. We'll bring him home. I promise." I ran my fingers along the side of his face, noting the swelling in his cheeks, the pale pallor of his skin. "Get some sleep."

Sam smothered a yawn into his cast, to which Dad and I gave a disgusted look. We'd have to look into _that_ when he woke up. Eyes closed again, he slipped out one last whisper before drifting to sleep, "Missed you…"

I let out a small cry, tinged with a few tears. "I missed you, too."

Total and complete understatement.

I just sat, watching him sleep, soaking it in. He was _here_. Not under great circumstances, but _he was actually here_. No more questions about what happened to them. No more wondering. The impact of his arrival rammed me, including Dean's disappearance, and the pain in my head spiked to an uncomfortable level.

Maybe he saw a facial wince, maybe the fresh batch of tears was a clue, or hey, maybe my own shivering gave away my inner turmoil, not really sure. But at some point, Dad moved behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, pulling me close.

Thankfully, he stayed quiet, even though I knew he had a million questions needing to be answered. They could wait.

 _Sam was here._

I let myself have a minute, wiping my eyes and fussing with the blanket. Sam was okay, for now, resting... _in my fucking bed in my fucking room in my fucking reality_ _JesusChrist Dean was gone_ and Sam was here with... _Crowley?_

Crowley.

The King of Hell.

On our property.

Just...hanging out?

Or...

 _Fuck_.

Wetting my lips and working on those deep breathing exercises, that kept me sane when reality hopping, I decided to take a quick peek outside and see what was what before telling Bobby to put a kettle on so we could have tea with a demon.

A major demon.

I really needed that drink…

Tilting my head a little, I fought some dizziness and glanced up at Dad. "I...um...I need...to get outside for a few...and…" I made vague gestures around my head, hoping he'd think the wards were making me sick.

Which they were.

They were just also getting a spectacular amount of help.

Dad's forehead wrinkled up, looking like...Sam. Both of them. _Christ_. Reaching down, he wiped my eyes and nodded. "Okay," was all he said.

It felt like I was being ripped apart when we left the room. _I'll be back in a bit_ , I mentally called out.

Sam didn't move.

Funny how our roles were reversed not that long ago.

Well. Not _haha_ funny. More like... _Whoa Nelly_ ironic funny. If that's even ironic. What the fuck does ironic even mean?

Nice. Scrambled mental capacity. Back to that.

Dad helped me down the stairs. I only stumbled once, which I thought was pretty good, considering how awful I felt. The others were hovering while trying not to hover, which was adorable and annoying and frightening all at the same time.

I couldn't even look at Dean, which confused him. It felt like he shouldn't be there, and I needed my head cleared before that could be reconciled.

Sam was...I wasn't sure. I barely glanced at him, and when our eyes met, conflicting memories and emotions sprouted and I simply took off for the door, waving at them all to give me some time alone.

Again.

Which they had no desire to do, but felt compelled to give.

 _Thank God._ Or...whoever.

Cobwebs cleared the second my feet hit the deck and a cool breeze washed over my face. Airwaves opened, piercing pain retreated, and while I didn't feel perfect, the immediate relief elicited a thankful sigh as I leaned against the railing, gulping in air, relishing the wet bannister pressing against my forehead.

"How's he doing?"

Swallowing hard, I pushed off the wooden support and stared at Crowley, standing on the lawn. He looked so...casual. Like this was a visit that happened regularly, not _never_. Hands in his pockets, he sauntered closer, stopping just short of the bushes.

"I could feel his whole...guard...just crumble once he saw you. I assume he's unconscious, which is why you're out here without him…" He looked up at me, expectantly, although I wasn't sure what he was expecting.

He looked exactly as I remembered. Warring emotions raged inside. Sam said he'd been helpful, that the cure actually worked. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe...I couldn't ride this thought bus tonight.

So, we stood there, looking at each other, until I broke the silence with something poignant. "Are you really you?" Nice, Kate.

The corner of his mouth quirked, as he reached up to unwind a scarf from around his neck. He stepped a little closer, directly under a light, and tilted his head. "Does this help?"

My hand automatically caressed the injection spots on my arm as I stared at nine scars on his neck, some neatly healed, others looking a little rough. I knew the exact order those scars were made, the way his skin gave way to the needle, the effort it took to push my blood into his veins towards the end.

"Holy shit."

Crowley chuckled, wrapping them once more and stepping back into the shadows. "That's one way to put it. So...Sam's sleeping?"

I nodded, still at a loss for words. Sam was in charge of explaining Crowley to Dad and the others, I decided.

Crowley nodded back. "Good. He needed it." He eyed me critically. " _You_ need it, too."

Now he's giving wellness advice? I said nothing.

Smiling a little, Crowley shrugged. "Well. Why don't you go back inside. You two can figure out how you want to handle...me. We can talk in the morning. Alright?"

One last cocky smile and he turned to go. God help me, I blurted out, "Do you need somewhere to sleep?"

That stopped him. He glanced over my shoulder and murmured, "I don't sleep, so I have a lot of reflection time. I consider it my...penance." The smile I got next was genuine, and maybe accompanied with some tears. "Thank you...for giving me this chance."

And with that, he disappeared.

 _Awesome_.

The door opened behind me, and Bobby put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, Missy…I, uh, brought you a drink, if you want it…"

Oh, I wanted it. But something about Bobby's tone set off my alarms - I was willing to bet they drugged the booze.

Shaking my head, I pushed the glass aside. Time to stretch my acting skills. "No thanks, Bobby. I'm okay, really."

Stepping past him, I took a deep breath and headed back into the house. The wards weren't as bad this time, so I was fairly confident the amplified effects had to do with my emotional state. The living room felt packed - everyone watching me, struggling with Sam's arrival.

I cleared my throat and thumbed toward the stairs. "So…that was Sam. Uh...the one I stayed with for over two years. Last time I saw him, I was, um, dying in his arms." Dad flinched at that. "It seems that Dean's been taken, and Sam needs help finding him." I kept my eyes on the floor, the desk, the anything other than them. "I don't think he's here to bring me back...there...I think Dean's _here_ , in this reality." The sighs of relief were audible, which was funny given the news. "I don't...I don't know more than that. When he wakes up, when he's feeling better, I'm sure we'll get more information."

"You okay?"

Not sure who asked, to be honest. A rough laugh left my mouth before I could stop it. "I'm not sure what I am, right now, other than really, fucking tired. So...I'm going to bed, and...keeping an eye on...him...and we can sort this out in the morning."

I had every intention of turning around, and marching my ass back upstairs. But in the process of said turning, I caught Dean's gaze, and my heart stuttered. It took three steps to reach him, throw my arms around his body and squeeze. He responded immediately, whispering in my ear, "It's okay... _I'm_ okay...and we'll find him. I promise."

All I could do was nod into his neck, afraid to let go, but needing to get to Sam. I pressed a kiss onto his shoulder blade, then went upstairs.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

He was really warm, he hurt everywhere, and he was barely awake, but he was still acutely aware of her absence.

 _Where the hell was she?_ Wait...did he _imagine_ being here...or...there?

 _Fuck_...was he going to wake up, still in the Bunker? Was he gonna face another day, trying to hold it together by fueling himself forward on caffeine and desperation? Was he going to -

The door opened, and Kate stepped inside, softly shutting the door behind her. Sam let out the breath he was holding and scooted over, relief and _Thank Fucking God_ washing over him.

Sam needed connections, despite his consistent clamor for autonomy. Casual physical contact certainly wasn't something he engaged in easily, at least not since Jess died. That was more Dean's expertise. Besides, Dean had such a presence about him, that just being in the same room was practically physical contact. Sam had come to rely on that presence, that assurance. Without it, he was lost.

While in the driveway, Kate's hands were in his hair, on his face, holding him close...the whole time.

He fucking _loved_ it.

She wasn't Dean, but she was family, and that was close enough.

It'd been too long.

Besides, she knew how he was. How _they_ were. Even though _she_ needed or wanted contact, she _always_ gave him space. But after months of no Dean _or_ Kate, Sam was a complete mess. The connection was desperately needed. Once he saw her on that porch, all his energy disappeared, seeping into the ground, leaving him drained and exhausted, and needing them all the more.

But he made it. She wasn't dead, just as Crowley discovered. She'd help him. That was what mattered.

Quietly, Kate slipped into bed next to him, checking his forehead, sweeping the hair off his face.

He fucking loved _that_ , too.

Jesus, he'd been so repressed for so long.

Sam's mind was too foggy from fever, pills, and exhaustion to attempt a conversation. She pulled him close, humming when he tucked into her side.

"Go back to sleep, Sam," she whispered. He sighed against her neck, nodding. The last thing he heard, was a breathy sigh back, followed by: "Shoulda made you brush your teeth…"


	4. Chapter 4

_**Kate…**_

I'm fairly sure I drifted off at some point. Sam's warmth, although lessened by medicine, lulled me to sleep. I say "fairly sure", because even if I was unconscious, my brain certainly didn't take a break. Images, memories, and thoughts, both good and bad, flashed constantly. I couldn't tell if I was watching a show or actively making one.

Despite the noise in my brain, everything was quiet. Sam wasn't snoring or mumbling, just breathing deeply, getting the rest his body obviously needed. The lack of something to focus on _externally_ allowed me to focus on everything _internally_ , which was totally _not_ what I wanted to do.

Winchesters much prefer the external.

But I couldn't stop myself.

The pain in my head hadn't really lessened. To make matters more fun, I was now aware of an all too familiar whole body fatigue that had nothing to do with a lack of sleep. Sometimes my skin crawled, forcing me to shrug my limbs to alleviate the discomfort.

Not good.

I remembered feeling like this.

When I felt like this, I was _there_. With _them_.

I cracked open one eye and peeked. There was Sam...frown lines and signs of _I've Seen Some Shit_ on his face. OtherSam.

So, that part felt right. Cautiously, I peered around the room.

 _Home_.

Okay...wasn't dreaming, but reality was still kinda fucked up.

At least I knew what was what.

The sun sprinkled faint beams of light through the window, landing on various objects and expanding their reach until most of my room appeared clearly. I scooched closer, smiling a little when Sam's arm flung across my stomach, followed by a grimace at the body heat and weight pressing upon me. I was about to roll him over when I heard a tentative knock at the door.

Before I could call out, the door opened, and MySam poked his head inside. His eyes roamed over me in bed with...himself.

Erg.

He tilted his head to the side, gears turning.

"Hey…" I whispered, trying to sit up.

He flapped a hand, shaking his head as he walked inside, so I stopped moving and tracked him with my eyes.

Sam sat in a chair next to the bed and just...watched. Not creepy watching, thank God. More...curious...interested...fascinated. He whispered, "How's he doing?"

I glanced down and shrugged. "Feverish, exhausted, worried, scared...the usual, minus the fever."

Sam nodded slowly, still fixated on the older version of himself curled up with his sister. His eyes dragged to mine. "You don't look so hot."

Smirking, I quipped, "Actually, I'm sweating. He's a fucking furnace right now."

Nonplussed and shockingly uninterested in my amazing sense of humor, Sam ghosted a hand across my forehead, wrapping some hair around his fingers before letting it drop on his lap. "You want Advil or Tylenol?"

"Aleve. Need something stronger today."

Nodding, Sam stood up, now pointedly not looking at OtherSam. "Cas is here...popped in and offered to heal...Sam." He swallowed, biting his lip a little. "Think you can get him downstairs? I mean, I know he's resting, but if Cas can heal him…"

I nodded back, "Yeah, we'll get downstairs." I could've done several different things to start the whole waking up process, but honestly, I didn't want to do anything while MySam was there. I wasn't ready for that encounter just yet.

Sam patted the doorframe. "Sounds good." He took hold of the doorknob, twisting it back and forth a couple times. "I'll get the Aleve ready. See you soon." And with that, he left and shut the door.

I let out a breath, puffing out my cheeks in the process. This was gonna be interesting, to say the least.

 _Sam? Yeah, meet the fam. This is your dead dad, your dead surrogate dad, your dead brother, your missing brother, and yourself from another reality. Hungry? I think there's ham in the fridge…_

Awesome.

I gently extracted myself from Sam's dead-weight arm. I was fairly sure he wouldn't want to wake up entwined, even though he had a fever. Sitting next to him, I stroked his cheek and called his name until his eyes twitched and opened with a yawn.

Holy mother...was it bad to have him brush his teeth before getting healed? Maybe Cas could fix his mouth, too...that'd be worth the extra mojo, right?

Glassy eyes opened and mostly focused on me. Okay, no way a toothbrush was gonna work. But I bet a swish of mouthwash was possible.

"Hi there...I, uh, I'm sorry I'm waking you, but Cas is here...my Cas...and he can heal you. Think you can get downstairs?" I was aware that I frontloaded a lot of info in a short amount of time to someone who could barely see straight. But the sooner he got down there, the sooner he got healed.

Sam frowned, blinking heavily and wetting his lips. "Cas...what? Kate?"

I ran my fingers through his hair, grimacing at the sweat. "Yeah, Sam. It's me. Look, just...come with me, okay? I'm gonna get you fixed up." I stole a quick kiss to his forehead before pulling off the blankets. He shivered, hugging himself for warmth, but nodded and accepted my help sitting up.

He was obviously still out of it, but he knew who I was, and he trusted me so implicitly that he was willing to follow me blind.

"Need...um...bathroom, first…"

At first, I was elated, thinking about the toothpaste. Then I realized he probably needed to piss. "Okay, buddy...let's go."

It only took three tries to get on our feet - me swaying from a raging headache and mild disorientation, him swaying from too many things to mention. We managed to get down the hall and he went into the bathroom with a halfhearted wave. I leaned against the wall massaging my temples, craving the pain relief waiting downstairs. A couple minutes later, I heard a flush, then the sink, and finally the door opened and out staggered my brother smelling... _hold on_.

"You rinsed your mouth out?" I asked.

Sam smacked his lips. "Tasted like ass...needed...something else to taste."

 _Huh_. "You know what ass tastes like?"

Sam coughed into his shoulder. "Sure. Where're we goin'?"

I nodded towards the stairs. "Downstairs. Cas is waiting. C'mon…"

His gross cast covered arm wrapped around my shoulders and together we slowly, and I mean _slowly_ , made our way downstairs.

Voices floated through the front door, stray words winding their way into my consciousness. Most of my attention was on not falling and not making/letting Sam fall, so I was only partly aware of the conversation. I heard Castiel's low, gravely voice, Dad's pushy tone, Bobby's more patient lilt.

But when I heard, "A king? Hell really has _a king?_ " My brain automatically dispatched more attention toward the talking, causing us to stumble down the last couple steps.

"Whoa! You okay?" Sam and I swiveled toward Adam, both hands outstretched to help stop us from tumbling onto the porch.

Sam flinched, eyes a little wide, gripping my shoulder a little harder. Immediately, Adam's hands went up defensively. "It's okay, man. I'm...uh...it's okay."

Sighing, I squeezed Sam's hand. "Just...come on. When Cas is done, you'll be better equipped for this."

We got to the doorway, and before Bobby leapt up to open the screen, I smiled at my family, casually sitting in various spots with mugs of coffee and the facial expression a kid wears when he's hearing a particularly riveting story.

 _Now_ , my other reality was a good story to listen to. Well, whoop-dee-do.

The second I stepped outside, the pain in my head lessened by a million percent. The relief was so strong and sudden, it took me by surprise and I almost collapsed. A flutter ruffled my hair, and Cas was holding us up, helping Sam sit while keeping a firm hold of my arm.

 _You are unwell_ , he thought at me.

 _ **You**_ _are unwell_ , I thought back, rolling my eyes at the uncreative, yet very Dean, response. I would've laughed, except the serious expression on Castiel's face told me...oh, shit. _You_ _ **aren't**_ _well, are you? Still not at full strength?_ I immediately felt guilty for having him heal Sam.

 _I'll be fine. I believe I have the grace to heal Sam._

I blinked at him. _You believe?_

Now _**he**_ looked guilty. _I do. Have the grace, I mean._

I studied him, deep blue eyes stared right back, his face impassive. _Bullshit. Do the minimum, Cas. He can sleep the rest of this off. I just...whatever's broken or damaged is the most important. Understand?_

Cas intoned, _Of course._

"I mean it, Cas."

"You mean what, Missy?" Startled, I turned to Bobby, and discovered everyone was looking at us funny.

 _Fuck_.

"Nothing, Bobby. I was...just…"

"Kate is thanking me for healing Sam." Cas gave my arm a squeeze. _See? I Improvised like a human._

I squeezed back. _Like the pro you are. But I'm serious, Cas. Please._

Dad cleared his throat. "Okay, let's get this show started."

Crouching next to Sam, I kept a hand on his arm. He squinted up at Cas. "Cas? What're you...who's with Charlie? Why're...you're so _young…_ "

Cas just smiled tolerantly, placing two fingers on Sam's forehead. Sam's eyes closed and he shivered. I could sense Castiel's grace flowing through Sam.

...Flowing through Sam a _little_ too much. _Cas?_

Letting go, Cas took a step or two back, one hand behind him, groping for the porch rail. I guided him as best as I could, thankful that Dean stepped in to help. Wearily, he passed a hand across his face, shrugging his shoulders sheepishly at me.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

Cold prickles danced their way through Sam's body. They targeted the broken arm, the sores in his mouth, the bruising on his back, the headache, fever, the...blister on his right big toe? As quickly as it came, it went, prompting a slight shiver. What he wasn't quite ready for was the rush of clarity and awareness that slapped him in the face.

Other than feeling exhausted, he felt great. Better than he had in awhile, actually. Well. Physically, at least.

Sam dragged his eyes off his healed arm, thankful the cast had disappeared, and sought out his sister. She stood next to a much younger Castiel, one hand on his arm, staring intently into his face. A chill shook Sam, and he sneezed. Kate's head whipped around at the noise, crouching in front of him, hands on either side of his face.

"Hey...how're you feeling?" Her eyes searched his, hopeful and insistent.

Sam wet his lips, tentatively smiling. "Good, uh, yeah. _Good_. You…" For a moment, he just stared at her, drinking in the sight.

Uh...the sight of her looking thin and pale and not as healthy as he thought she'd be, that is.

"What is it? Sam? Hey - what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "You're not healed. Why...why aren't you healed if you're alive?"

Her head dropped to her chest as she huffed a laugh. "You're kidding me."

Sam raised her chin. "You're what's in my face right now." He sighed. "I just thought...we _all_ thought that - _whoa…_ " Voice faltering, his thoughts were completely forgotten when he caught sight of an impossibly young Dean, arms folded across his chest, standing next to Cas. Mouth open, Sam didn't know what to say. This guy was...well... _Dean_. Only, not _his_ Dean. _Her_ Dean. And…

He glanced around him. Bobby. Adam. Dad. Himself. All younger, all watching him closely, all not remotely dead.

Heart hammering in his chest, Sam clasped his hands, wet his lips again and sat back heavily in his chair. He turned to Kate, completely at a loss for words.

Kate pushed herself to her feet. "Yup. Welcome to my world. _Literally_. Sam, this is everyone. Everyone, this...this is Sam." She pulled up a chair and sat down, brushing stray hair out of her pale face and smiling a little, as if to tell him everything would be okay. "So...you wanna start the conversation now, or take a shower first?"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sam…**_

Hot water pummeled sore muscles as Sam stood in the shower, taking much longer than necessary in an effort to stall facing his family.

Her family.

 _Their_ family?

Cranking the knob, he sighed into the stream.

 _Don't hog all the hot water, asshole._

Dean's growl rang in his head. Without thinking, Sam shut it off, belatedly remembering Kate telling him about the special hot water heater Bobby installed. He sighed again, now avoiding the much cooler air on the other side of the shower curtain.

Taking a deep breath, Sam yanked the curtain aside. Shivering, he dried off and dressed in clean clothes, thankful for Castiel's healing, but still wanting to sleep for a week then wake up to discover this had all been just a really bad dream...the result of too much whiskey and maybe a joint Dean lifted from God knew where.

But then that meant Kate was dead, or beyond his reach.

That wasn't preferable.

But _Dean…_

Sam forcefully scrubbed the towel over his hair, not wanting to play that game. He didn't need to justify anything. He really didn't have to.

He really _shouldn't_ have to.

Passing a hand over the steam fogged mirror, Sam stared at his face until the guilt abated somewhat.

He was thrilled to see her.

He was ecstatic she was alive.

He was thankful he'd have the help of the best hunters, ever.

He really was.

But, the whole thing was fucking _weird_.

Swallowing hard, Sam mentally shook himself. If she lived with her brothers' doppelgangers for two years, he could do this.

 _It was for Dean._

Didn't he witness his brother die a thousand times in that Mystery Spot? Didn't they end up in some freak universe where they were actors playing themselves? Didn't they go back in time to get the Colt?

 _He could do this._

He could face John. He could face Bobby. He could face _himself_. He could…

...explain Crowley.

 _Fuck_...in all the commotion and emotional whirling, Sam completely forgot about the demon. Wincing through one last pass with towel, Sam returned to Kate's room. After checking the hallway real quick, he took a minute to look around.

In his reality, this room was always closed, filled with dusty boxes and random shit Bobby shoved in there over the years. Seeing it furnished and lived in was just...yeah...weird. Sam saw a couple of Dean's old t-shirts from when they were younger, a ratty stuffed bear, and a few knick knacks, probably from places they hunted. Although her room in the Bunker didn't have the "lived-in" vibe that this room did, Sam still had trouble accepting this room as hers.

 _When worlds collide…_

Sam was starting to get a taste of what Kate went through with the whole angel spell. His dead family was waiting for him downstairs, along with his sister that didn't exist in his world and his brother who was currently missing. Weird didn't really begin to cover it.

But the word kept popping up nonetheless.

Throughout his shower, he worked really hard to not dwell on the personal interactions he knew were unavoidable. This was just another hunt. The people downstairs _resembled_ his family, but they _weren't_ his family. He just had to keep that in mind.

No sweat...right? Because that's totally how Kate adjusted to living with him. _Yeesh_.

But Kate...she didn't resemble _anyone_. Since she didn't exist in his reality, she was just simply... _her_. Sam toyed with the edge of the towel. Maybe...when they rescued Dean, she'd…

Sam blew out a breath.

She belonged _here_. It was _her_ family waiting downstairs. _She couldn't go back with him._

With a sigh, Sam hung his towel on the doorknob while digging the heel of one hand into an eye. He missed Dean.

His phone rang, making him jump. The screen lit up with one word: _Crowley_.

Sam snatched the phone off the bed and answered. "Hey! Hi...I, um…"

"Eloquent as usual, Moose. Your education was worth every penny." Sam closed his eyes, sighing in defeat. "I was just wondering how you were doing, whether you were going to introduce me soon, etcetera. You know. The little things."

Sam dragged a hand over his mouth. "Shit - _yeah_. I - I'm sorry. I was kinda...out of it last night - "

"Really? I didn't even notice."

" - and I just got healed by their Cas - "

"Too bad we _never_ thought of that back home. Oh wait, we did, and I believe your response was, 'I can do it myself.' But enough of that. _Listen_. I was _kind_ of hoping you could come outside. I seem to have gotten in a pickle, and it'd be much preferred if you were to find me before - "

Sam heard the distinct sound of a shotgun priming.

"...Mr. Singer…"

 _Shit!_ "I'm on my way!" Sam tore out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time, hitting the bottom with a thud. Banging the front door open, and absently noting that no one was around, he flew down the porch steps and into the yard. Back by the garage, he saw Bobby's defensive stance, facing something just around the corner of the not-dilapidated garage.

Funny...the last time he was here, he helped set a trap for Crowley. Now, he was rescuing him.

Weird, weird, weird mcfucking weird.

"If you'd just point the gun in another direction, I'd - _Sam!_ So nice of you to join us."

Sam slowed to a jog, swiping hair off his face and panting. Crowley was casually standing on a patch of gravel, hands tucked in his pockets, face calm, although Sam detected a hint of unease. A defensive Bobby Singer with a shotgun wasn't something to trifle with.

Bobby barely glanced at Sam. "You know this guy? Caught him snooping around."

Sam caught his breath and tried to figure out why Crowley didn't just poof out of there. Wait...he said he got stuck. Sam met Crowley's eyes, which flickered towards his feet before rejoining Sam's, followed by a shrug.

Devil's Trap.

It had to be under the gravel.

 _Clever_.

Sam moved between Bobby and Crowley, hands up, hoping that the puppy eye thing worked on this Bobby. "Hey, Bobby - yeah, he, uh, he's with me. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I kinda - "

Bobby lowered the gun maybe an inch so it wasn't _quite_ pointing at its original target, but was still close enough to be raised in a second. He didn't look convinced, but he seemed willing to hear what Sam had to say. "You were out of it. I know. But where's he been this whole time, if he's with you?"

Sam stammered, wetting his lips and glancing over his shoulder at Crowley, who simply shrugged back, muttering, " _You_ wanted to wing it."

Biting back irritation, Sam growled, "Crowley - "

"Crowley?!" Bobby's head cocked to the side. "The one who almost made a deal with Kate when she was twelve, Crowley?"

Sam and Crowley shared a look. Kate mentioned a deal in one of her curse jumps, but she never said she tried to make a deal _here_ , in her _own_ time.

Crowley shrugged. "Since I'm not from here, that would have to have been a different Crowley...although I'm flattered to be known…"

Dropping his head to his chest, Sam thought he was gonna hit him. _One does not mess with a Singer/shotgun combo._ But then again, Crowley messed with anyone and anything.

Before he could say anything, though, his own voice floated to his ears. "No, Bobby...this would be the King of Hell...the demon Kate cured."

Startled, Sam looked up. A younger version of himself walked over, long legs covering the stretch of driveway in seemingly no time at all. ThatSam stopped next to Bobby, nodding at him to lower the weapon.

Crowley tugged on Sam's sleeve. "Oh. My. _God_. A baby Moose. _A baby Moose!_ I can't...I need a picture. _Please_ tell me there's a baby Squirrel, too."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, as the other Sam and Bobby exchanged confused looks. "Crowley. For the love of God - "

"Not for him."

"Crowley!"

Crowley held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I'll shut up. But really, Sam, you were adorable. Hard to believe you were ever that young."

Sam growled, "A hundred eighty years in Hell ages a person. Would you _please_ shut the fuck up?" A minute ago Crowley was worried about getting shot. Now, he was mouthing off. Dean was always better at handling the demon, and a surge of _I miss my brother_ shot through him.

 _Where the hell was Kate?_

Crowley shrugged his eyebrows, shoving his hands back in his pocket.

Heart now pounding in his chest, Sam turned back to... _Sam_...as his eyes met...well, _his_ eyes, and he found himself thinking... _fuck_...he _can't_ remember being that young. But he didn't have time to reminisce or wonder about where the time went.

Time to triage. "Um, look, I'm sorry. I...I wasn't trying to hide him. I was just - "

"You had a very elevated temperature, and the shock of seeing Kate was a bit overwhelming."

Everyone jumped as Castiel blinked into view, head tilted, eyes locked on Crowley. "Interesting. You're a demon, but... _not…_ "

Crowley blinked back, sniffing. "And _you_ , smell like hell."

This time, Sam _did_ smack Crowley on the arm. Wincing, Crowley rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. He _literally_ smells like Hell. Specifically, my Hell. Or...our Hell." He turned back to Castiel. "So. A young Castiel was the angel that swooped in to save the girl."

Cas blinked. "I'm not a _young_ Castiel. I'm simply Castiel. Besides, I'm a millennia older than you."

"You don't look a day over _half_ a millennium." Crowley jutted his chin. "Your wings are still...smoking a bit."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "You are the one who sent the Hounds after her."

At that, Crowley took a deep breath, actually chastised. Eyes downcast, he murmured, "I'm glad you got to her in time." Sam's eyebrows rose at the mood shift. No sass, no sarcasm, just sincerity.

Sam sent a thank you into the atmosphere.

Cas nodded slowly. "I believe you." He turned to Bobby and ThatSam. "He is no danger to you. He is still a demon, but...there is no demonic presence about him. Kate truly cured him."

Bobby lowered the weapon and fiddled with his cap. "I need a drink," he muttered, casting a quick glance at Sam before turning around. "John's climbin' the walls wantin' intel. If we're done here, we should get to the house and start sharin' information." He nodded at his Sam before shuffling toward the house, muttering about teaming up with demons.

Sam watched ThatSam bite his lower lip just like... _shit_ , just like _he_ was doing. He quickly stopped, biting his tongue instead to prevent making the same expressions. ThatSam sighed, dug his heel into the gravel, and drew a line approximately six inches long.

Crowley sighed, shoulders slumping a little. " _Thank_ you."

"Interesting how you can still get caught in one of these," ThatSam said, eyes on Crowley and pointedly not on Sam.

Frankly, that was fine with him. Talking to himself was now the weirdest thing he'd ever done.

"Well, I'm still technically a demon, so…" Crowley smiled at ThatSam, shrugging a shoulder and immediately stepping out of the Devil's Trap.

Cas was still watching Crowley, Crowley was now watching Cas, Bobby disappeared into the house, so that left…

Sam and Sam.

They avoided eye contact, finding deep interest in pebbles and peeling paint. _Awesome_.

ThatSam cleared his throat. "Well...Bobby's right. Dad's going nuts. Now that you're, uh, feeling better, we should talk."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead took a step backward, pivoted on his heels, and headed to the house.

"Are you alright, Sam?"

Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair before facing the angel. "Yeah. No? Kinda? This is all so...surreal. I don't...I don't know how she did it for as long as she did." The full implication of the curse was evident to Sam now, and all he wanted to do was sit with her and talk. But Dean's kidnapping loomed overhead, so while he knew those conversations would happen, Bobby was right. They needed to talk, and it sounded like _they_ had things to share as well.

"I understand this is difficult. They will help you find your Dean. And Kate...she is very glad to see you."

Speaking of his sister (Could he still call her that, now that she was back here? _Ugh_...figure that out later…), "So, she really _isn't_ fully healed?"

Cas avoided Sam's gaze by focusing on the house, and more specifically, Kate, who stepped through the front door and promptly staggered to the railing. Bobby was on the steps, reaching out to her.

"No. She is still...suffering side effects." ThisCas wore the same expression Sam's Cas did, when he saw something with his angel senses (for lack of a better term), and tried to pawn it off as not being important. But to his surprise, ThisCas followed up with, "We will need to discuss that. She is not as well as she should be, given that a month has passed." Cas faced Sam. "But I am unsure how much she wants her family to know."

Sam's face wrinkled. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't she want them to know what's going on with her?"

Cas sighed. "It has been a struggle for Kate to adjust to being back home. She does not yet fully identify with this reality. Seeing you is surfacing more of that conflict. Her trust is with you and your brother, as is her confidence in your ability to be of assistance to her. It's a product of two years' association."

Sam watched Kate search the yard until she found him, and holy shit, her body posture relaxed when her eyes met his. Was it bad that Sam felt good about that?

 _Fuck_.

She said she felt like she was betraying these Winchesters by being with Sam and Dean. Now, Sam fully understood what she meant.

Perhaps Uriel needed to die in this reality, too.

Kate waved them over.

Crowley sighed. "Come on...time to introduce me to Daddy."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

I was in the downstairs bathroom when I heard someone pounding down the stairs and through the front door. Either the Impala was on fire, or...yeah, there wasn't anything else that would entice someone to run like that.

My intention was to find out what happened, but at the moment, I was having trouble breathing. Seeing Sam, _my_ Sam ( _that_ Sam?), _not_ muddled by fever, meant he was truly and really there. I could _talk_ with him. I could _be_ with him. I could...find out what the fuck Metatron was doing in _my_ reality with _my_ brother.

Too many thoughts swirled, coupled with something seriously and scarily off with my body. The overwhelming sense of panic took several minutes to abate. More troubling, was knowing that my family was a soft yelp away, ready and willing to help. and yet I bit my tongue, stared at my haunted eyes in the mirror, and toughed it out alone.

What was going on with me?

Someone knocked on the door. "Hey...you okay in there or do I need to buy stock in Lysol?"

Oh, _Dean_. Same funny I remember. In both realities.

I blinked at my reflection.

Yep. Still looked batshit crazy.

Oh, well. They're probably kinda used to it by now.

I zipped up my hoodie and opened the door. Not expecting that as my answer, Dean took a reflexive step back, as if he thought a foul odor was gonna hit him in the face.

 _Nice_.

When he realized nothing smelled funky, he relaxed, only to double take at my appearance. " _Whoa_...uh…"

Guilt from loving a different version of him, of _my Dean_ , twisted in my gut. If I closed my eyes, It was harder to tell them apart. So closed they went, and in one step, I was in his arms, sighing.

Thankfully, he kept quiet, knowing I just needed a minute...not knowing that one word would've ruined it. He smelled like him...or maybe it was the other way around. I didn't care right then. I just needed _Dean_.

My breathing stuttered when his chin rested on my head, triggering a familiar mild burn in my chest. My whole body tensed, willing the sensation to subside. Luckily, I didn't start coughing. But it was close. Dean sensed something was up, so before the questions started, I pulled away, flashing a quick _Totally-Not-Batshit-Crazy-I-Swear_ look before turning away.

"Come on...I bet Dad's gonna lose his mind if we don't start talking."

Dean reached out and grabbed my arm, opening his mouth to most likely call me on my bullshit detachment, when Dad stomped over from the kitchen, two six-packs in hand. "Dad's _already_ losing his mind. Let's go - that other Sam is outside with Bobby and some other guy. You know who he is?"

Some other - _fuck!_

Pushing past them, I made my way to the porch, stumbling as soon as I left the wards. I have _got_ to stop passing through the doorway in a hurry. I couldn't keep up with the dramatic change each environment had on me.

It didn't take long to find him. Bobby was coming up the porch steps, a baseball cap mangled in his hands. He pointed at me. "We're teaming up with demons now?" His expression shifted when he caught mine. "What's wrong?"

Ignoring the question, I looked past him and locked eyes with Sam. Immediately, tension fizzled away.

It _was_ him. He _was_ okay. _He was here_.

...with Crowley and Cas. _Huh_.

I waved him over.

Time to find Dean.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I will address the whole "ThisSam" and "ThatSam" and "OtherSam" and "WTFSam" name issues in this chapter. Bear with me...and thank you for your patience as I conjure up time to write. Not that you have any other choice than to wait, but you know what I mean. ;P**_

* * *

 _ **Sam…**_

Sam leaned against the counter, in _Bobby's_ kitchen, in Bobby's _not_ dilapidated house, trying to prevent an erratically beating heart from bursting through his chest. A shaky hand swiped across his mouth. Well, at least he managed to relay the entire story of the Trials, Kate's death and Dean's disappearance without losing it in front of his _Dad_.

All those feelings of inadequacy he thought long dead and buried, resurfaced with a vengeance, as every other sentence was forced out of his mouth without _Please Don't Be Mad_. But when Sam reflected on the last thirty minutes, he knew, _really_ knew, that this man was _not_ his father. He _looked_ like him, he _sounded_ like him, he had _a lot_ of the same experiences and personality traits…but he wasn't Sam's John Winchester.

This man _listened_.

It was fucking weird.

Sam loved his Dad, with all his faults, recognizing after all that's happened, that _his_ John did the best he could, given what he had. It wasn't Sam's place to judge John for the decisions he made.

But Kate's John was definitely easier to deal with.

Once Sam finished his story, he stammered something about needing to go to the bathroom just so he could escape the porch for a few minutes, justified by figuring they needed some time to digest everything. Kate hadn't really filled them in on many details, which made sense, seeing as how she wasn't lucid for some parts, so it was up to Sam to relive the whole damn thing to fill in the holes.

A soft voice murmured, "Hey…"

Glancing over his shoulder, a pale Kate hesitantly approached. Arms folded across her chest, she stood next to him, shoulders almost touching. "You okay?" she asked.

Sam hung his head against his chest with a huff. "Yeah. I just…hated saying it all out loud."

She nodded quietly, giving him a moment to settle.

With a sigh, Sam turned, mimicking her stance, both staring at the floor.

"We haven't really had a chance to talk," she said. "I…" She sighed, leaning her head against his arm. "It's good to see you."

Sam huffed again, this time at the understatement. He snaked an arm around her, pulling her close. She was right - they hadn't had a minute alone since he stopped being feverish and delirious. "It's good to see you, too. I know they're waiting for more. I just…needed a minute."

Her cheek rubbed against against his flannel overshirt as she nodded in understanding. "Crowley even left so they could have some privacy."

As soon as the words left her mouth, he felt her stiffen a bit. She said _they_ , as if _they_ were other people that she and Sam had to deal with.

This was gonna be rough.

"It's okay," he whispered in her hair. "We'll get through it."

She nodded again and sighed, which quickly morphed into a cough. It was a sound Sam has heard a thousand times over, so it took him a second to realize that he shouldn't still be hearing it. Big brother reflexes kicked in, along with the routine of taking care of a Mid-Trials Kate. Frowning, one hand slid to her back, patting gently out of habit, even though he knew it didn't make a difference.

"What's going on?" Sam asked. He knew he didn't need to elaborate.

Kate shook her head, burrowing closer. "I dunno," she sighed. "It was getting better, but then Adam got taken, and I warded the house and it's just…getting worse."

Sam frowned. "Adam got taken? By who?"

Kate's face soured. "Yeah, that's our story to tell. " She pushed herself off the counter and tugged on his sleeve. "C'mon…let's get back out there. We'll visit later."

 _ **xxxxx**_

 _ **Kate…**_

Everything in me screamed for more time to just... _be_ with him. But I knew it had to wait. Back outside, we were greeted by several pairs of eyes filled with worry, questions, and generally speaking, hard thinking. The head-on reality of this situation was now fully shared by everyone, which was good. Nice to have us all at the same table. Too bad it took more than just my word to get there.

" _This agitation isn't helping your body heal."_

I flashed Cas a withered look, to which he countered with a puppy-eyed frown and half-assed shoulder shrug.

He was probably right, but I couldn't help being agitated.

Dad and Bobby were crammed onto the porch swing. Bobby's brow furrowed, his cap twisting in his hands with nervous energy. Dad was stoic, watching me and Sam carefully, which was instantly annoying and made me defensive, like I was being monitored for cheating. MySam and Dean were…I wasn't sure. Dean had this look…like he was pissed at sleeping through something as important as shutting the gates of Hell in an alternate reality. And Sam…yeah, he kept his face neutral, but I knew the gears were turning.

There were too many people crammed into a small space. It took too much effort trying to keep track of them all, so I kept my attention on a few players, and let the rest drift into a fuzzy background.

Crowley popped into view and we settled back into our chairs. My head spun from the wards, and the mild burn in my chest pulsed, the thrum of my blood coursing through my body.

 _Not good, not good, not good._

I had a hard time listening to Sam tell our story. He didn't go into the details of our everyday life (why would he?), but he hit the highlights and got everyone up to speed. The third Trial was hazy to me, but as Sam shared the details, more of it came back, and frankly, it was scary and unsettling.

As usual, I didn't have time to sort through it all. God forbid I have a fucking minute to reflect upon these recent events. More importantly, I still didn't have the whole story of how Sam got here, and they didn't know about Adam's impromptu vacation with a douchebag angel.

But they were about to find out.

Tucking my knees to my chest, I glanced at Sam (on my left) and Crowley (behind us) before taking a good look at the men who raised me. We looked like two factions having a debate on the porch, not one big group or…family.

 _Ugh_.

It wasn't my intention to take sides or choose one over the other. But in this…right now…how could I not sit with this Sam? Couldn't they understand? Or...maybe they did and I was just being defensive? Or...maybe I needed to chill out and stop thinking so much.

At that point, I swore I heard a little snippy, " _Mmm-hmmm!"_ in my head. When I peeked at Cas, he was pointedly not making eye contact, instead intently staring at Bobby's hat, because, _riiiight_ , that thing was a priority.

Dad cleared his throat and leaned forward, jumping back into it. "Okay…that…helps a lot, actually. Gave us some more background information that Kate wouldn't – " Bobby elbowed him. _Hard_. "Yeah, _okay_. Nevermind. So…here's what happened over here."

Dad and Bobby, with Adam's help, told the story of how Adam got taken. Sam listened carefully, brows knitted together in contrast to the relaxed posture of the rest of him. When they finished, Sam turned to me. "So you knew the shifter wasn't Adam because he mentioned Kevin?"

I nodded. "I hadn't really told anyone about Kevin, let alone that he was Chinese. So there was no way it was really Adam."

"And…the Lucifer you saw that looked like…us…" Sam gestured at himself and MySam.

"You mean the Samifer?" Crowley interrupted. (We may have shared a giggle on that.)

Sam made a face. "Christ, no… _not_ that." When he saw the others' confusion, he quickly added, "Not important. Anyway. Tell us exactly what he said to you, and what you saw."

The inclusion of Crowley in that "we" wasn't lost on me, or anyone else. It truly showcased that this demon was now a part of our merry little band.

I took a deep breath, burrowing a little in my sweatshirt and chastising myself for being uncomfortable about this. It was a fake Lucifer, for crying out loud. Get over it.

Right. Bigger fish.

"First off, the backpack was in the park, filled with everything I used while in Hell." I met Sam's eyes. "The cell phone even had your numbers in it, and some pictures from the Bunker." His eyebrows rose. "He talked about how …" My gaze flickered to Dad. "My family here didn't appreciate what I went through, and that I needed to share my story with them."

"Wait – share your what?" Crowley asked, moving to stand by Cas so he could face me.

"My story. He re-created a couple versions of Hell almost exactly, especially the Cage." I smiled wryly. "He even made me run through the city after a Hellhound."

"Huh!" Crowley said, pulling at his chin. "That city is particular to me, not Hell in general. So for sure, you had a custom-built event. What else?"

By this time, Dad and Dean were clearly irritated with Crowley's level of engagement, but that was too bad. How messed up was it when I found more ease sharing with this demon than my own father and brother?

MySam spoke up. "The hound led us to Adam, thanked Kate, then everything went back to normal."

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "It talked to you?"

MySam squirmed at the demon's question. "Well, no, to Kate."

"So how do you know it spoke?"

"He saw it," I blurted. "Only Sam, Cas and I could see and hear her."

Crowley's eyebrows rose. "Her? You sure?"

"I...well, Cas said it was a she."

Castiel's eyebrows shrugged. "I could tell."

"Waitwaitwait..." Sam asked, squirming a little. "Uh…did you…"

"Sam did not make a deal," Cas hastily added to which Sam slumped in relief. "He was simply able to see it. Perhaps due to the demon blood he possesses." Everyone winced at that blunt statement. "Do you have this ability?"

Both Sam and I shook our heads, but Sam answered. "No. Even when…even when I had the psychic powers. I couldn't…" He paused and swallowed. Aw, shit, he was thinking of Dean's deal.

I nudged him. _It's okay._

Huffing back, Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "I need to wear glasses scorched with holy oil to see a Hound. This is interesting."

I caught Dean rolling his eyes, realizing that while _this_ Sam wasn't _his_ Sam, it was still _a_ Sam.

Crowley pulled his lip between his teeth, forehead creased in thought. "Kate...tell me again what the Hound said to you."

My eyes flickered to MySam before answering. "Like Sam said, she thanked me then left so we could get Adam." I wasn't sure where he was going.

Crowley shook his head, waggling a finger at me. "Nonono, _words_. I need to know _exactly_ what words she said."

Cas murmured, "She thanked Kate for sharing her story, then said that she understood why her brothers were so proud of her."

Oh yeah, that _is_ what she said. I was so wrapped up in Adam's body lying on the hard ground that the specifics were a little lost. Was this whole adventure making me a shittier hunter? _Awesome_.

Snapping his fingers, Crowley gave Sam a _Get It?_ look.

"What? What is it?" I asked, ping-ponging my gaze between them. Sam sat up, nodding emphatically. "Sam?" I grated.

Wiping his hands on his thighs, Sam faced me. "Okay, remember in the chapel...when Metatron showed up...what did he keep saying to you?"

I threw up my hands, just wanting the answers given to me. "I was barely with it, Sam. I don't fucking remember what he - " But then it hit me, like puzzle pieces clicking neatly into place. "Oh, shit…"

Crowley wore this very satisfying grin, Sam was still nodding, I was rapidly catching up, and Dad lost his cool. "Hello?! We're still here, you know."

 _Ouch_.

Untucking my legs from under me, I sat up, brushing stray hair from my face, silently willing Sam to explain.

Which he did. No Sam could resist explaining something to anyone, let alone Dad.

"When Metatron showed up at the chapel, he kept referencing stories...telling Kate that the ending to her story hadn't been written yet, that she still had more to share. The fake Lucifer told her the same thing - that she needed to share her story, and the Hound echoed that same message." He took a breath. "It was Metatron - he was behind what happened to Adam."

Crowley added, "Besides, as the scribe, he was resonating with Kate during that third trial. He knew her thoughts at that time, which means he knows about her time in Hell, especially the Cage. Normally those sorts of thoughts would be bottled up, but since Kate was...out of sorts - " I snorted. " - everything was on the table."

As soon as Crowley mentioned resonating, I remembered the headache. Jesus, what else did I forget? "The headache I had when he was in the chapel...I had the same kind of pain in the woods. The location spell didn't hurt before, but if it was really Metatron, then maybe I was resonating with him again."

Sam frowned. "What headache? You never said anything about - "

Crowley beat me to cutting him off. "It was a bit busy at the time. The opportunity for conversation didn't really present itself."

"That explains why the shifter stabbed himself when he saw Dean."

Everyone kinda jumped when Bobby spoke up next. I didn't expect someone from my family to contribute just then.

"Wait, what?" Dean asked.

Bobby shoved his cap back on his head, cinching his mouth to the side. "Remember when the shifter saw you? It flipped out, babbling about how he didn't tell us nothin'...remember, John?" Bobby gestured at Dean. "He was a cocky sonofabitch before you showed up. He must've thought you were Metatron."

"What happened with the shifter?" Sam asked.

Oh, this I remembered. I remembered how I freaked out my family by pinning that bastard to the wall. Swallowing heavy, I sunk back into the chair and avoided all eye contact.

Dad picked up this story, explaining what happened, what I said, what I did. The porch fell silent for a beat, until, "The arm? Really? How cliché."

 _Christ_ , I forgot Adam was even there. Startled, I looked up to find his eyes locked on mine, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I shrugged one shoulder at him. "Maybe so, but there was a 4 percent chance I was wrong, so I went for an unimportant appendage. Besides, the fucker hogged all the blankets."

Adam nodded his head from side to side, considering my words. "Well then, totally justifiable. So! We have a powerful angel from another reality roaming around using your Dean as a vessel," he jutted his chin at Sam, "which means he has access to everything your Dean knows."

"And, since our past has a lot of similarities to yours, he has some extra information to work with," Sam added.

Crowley also chimed in. "Don't forget that Azazel is still alive here, along with all the archangels, which means, depending on his plans, he could make some powerful allies."

The porch fell silent again as the weight of this situation settled on our shoulders.

"So what do we do?" MySam asked.

In unison, Dad and Bobby answered, "We eat."

"Come again?" Dean asked.

Bobby hauled himself to his feet. "Boy, this kinda job needs some processing time, and I ain't doing that on an empty stomach."

Mouths opened to protest, but Dad raised a hand. "We can't go running into this blind. We have our backstories straight, but we need more information before we can even form a plan. Let's take a couple hours to wrap our heads around this so we'll be in a better position to move forward. Okay?"

Sometimes, Dad surprised us by doing the right thing. This was one of those times...when he saw a Dad need before a Hunter need. Sam, however, had apparently never seen his dad do this. He looked positively floored.

"Hold on. There's one problem we gotta solve now." Dean slid off the porch railing, gesturing between the Sams. "We need a way to keep them straight. Using 'ThatSam' or 'MySam' is fucking ridiculous."

The Sams sized each other up, but Crowley was the one who spoke up. "We can call Sam Moo-"

Sam snapped, "No!"

"-se and Baby Moo-"

Sam and I double snapped, "NO!"

"-se. _*sigh*_ You're no fun, either of you."

MySam wet his lips. "Look, I'll go by Sammy and you can use Sam."

Sam winced. "No...I can - "

MySam sighed. "Listen. They call me Sammy most of the time, anyway. And you're...kinda... _old_ for Sammy."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Sam turned a deep red. "I'm only ten years older than you," he muttered defensively.

In his flat, painfully literate way, Castiel murmured, "You appear much older than that. This arrangement is quite plausible. Unless you'd rather use Samuel, which is another option."

Sam's face went flat. " _No_ , thank you."

"Then Sam - _Sammy's_ \- plan works," Castiel said, oblivious to all the raised eyebrows at Sam's response.

Dean slapped his thighs. "Great. It's settled, then. I always knew you liked Sammy despite all the whining. So, what's for lunch, Bobby?"

Everyone began their own mini-conversations, both avoiding and digesting the past hour. Bobby, Adam, and Dad went inside, Sammy trailing behind. The door squeaked shut as he cast one last look at us still on the porch.

Dean stayed a moment, pulling on his chin. "I'll go make sure it's not all meat. Although really...I don't see what's wrong with that." He flashed a quick smile before disappearing inside.

So, there we were...Cas...me...Sam...and Crowley. Still on the porch. Crowley broke the silence in a low voice. "I guess I'll be the one to ask. Shall we maybe go for a stroll and chat more about this predicament?

The rest of us blew out a collective breath. No one had the guts to suggest that we confer in secret. It wasn't like I planned on hiding information. That'd be stupid, and from what I remembered of Sam and Dean in their reality...secrets from family never ended well.

It was just that...the whole time we were sharing...it felt like we were getting Dad and the others up to speed. They didn't know much about angels. They didn't know about specific spells. They didn't know about Metatron, the trials, the Bunker, nothing. I _craved_ a conversation with someone who was actually there, who instantly knew I wasn't crazy, because they were with me at some point, And the people I dreamed about existing... _really existed._

It wasn't until I got to the bottom step that I realized...I didn't say anything to Sammy and Dean before deciding to leave.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **John…**_

John watched Kate and Sam trudge down the steps and across the yard. It took him a minute to realize that everyone else was peeking through the window, too.

Dean spoke first. "So. Do we trust them?"

Adam tilted his head, confused. "What do you mean?"

Dean shrugged, splaying his hands. "I dunno. Maybe because they showed up out of nowhere with a story that makes Kate turn her back on all of us in a heartbeat? And conveniently it's linked to your disappearance, so we naturally want to help them?" He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't like it."

John leaned against the doorway, thankful that for once, his own douchey thoughts didn't have to come out of his mouth.

Adam frowned. "Cas said they weren't lying, though."

Dean snorted. "And a demon?" He turned to John and Bobby. "We're teaming up with demons, now?" He gestured at Kate's retreating back across the yard. "And she's okay with hanging out with that Crowley guy? Thing? Whatever it is?" He shook his head. "No...something's not right."

"You're just jealous."

Not surprisingly, the counter-argument came from Sammy. But, because he was an adult, John didn't sigh dramatically. Out loud. But he _was_ a little surprised at Sammy's choice of words.

This should be good.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean demanded, eyes narrowing.

Sammy shrugged, also folding his arms across his chest. "Kate's a little messed up right now, sure. But she wouldn't just walk away from us." He looked out the window just as Kate and Sam disappeared from sight, and sighed. "We have to accept that this curse really happened, and that she has...relationships...that don't include us." His gaze returned to Dean, and he gave a little smile. "I don't like it either, but it's real, and it's there, and...we can't keep pretending like it isn't."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head and turning away. "You and your psychology bullshit. I'm talking about basic trust of a demon and some dude who turns up out of nowhere - "

"Who she feels closer to right now than you or me or anyone else in this house."

 _Ouch_. John pulled at his chin. _Fuck_. Sammy had a point.

Figures.

Eyes glinting, Dean faced Sammy. Before Dean could open his mouth, John pushed off the doorway and stepped between them. "I think it's all of us...we're all...jealous, as petty as it sounds. Sammy has a point." Everyone blinked at that. "Kate's said it more than a few times...that she feels like we're patronizing her. We can't do that anymore. This is real, and we have to deal with it."

Dean shook his head, turning away, but said nothing. John counted that as a win.

"Besides," Bobby added, "Crowley said that Azazel was still alive here as well as the archangels. That means they're dead by them, so they may have info on how to deal with your demon, not to mention the demon blood in Sammy."

Everyone blew out a collective breath at that.

John turned back to the window, tilting his head in an effort to see his daughter who had completely disappeared amidst the cars and bushes. Sighing, he walked toward the kitchen. "C'mon. Let's make lunch."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Kate…**_

Behind the garage, past a few junkers, was an area Dad set up for target practice and sparring. Sammy _(ugh)_ and I sometimes went there to talk. It was out of sight from the house, with little possibility for someone to hide and spy while someone else spilled his guts about Corianne Leydon in the tenth grade.

I was about to mention it as a good meeting place when Sam said, "Dean and I used to spar out here - just past the garage. That'd be a good spot to talk."

I blinked. Sometimes, the similarities were just freaky.

"Ah...the natural habitat of Moose and Squirrel."

Sam and I rolled our eyes, but Castiel, in his painfully factual tone, _had_ to say, "There are no moose here, although there are at least three varieties of squirrels. All insistent on running across the street at inopportune moments."

Crowley chuckled. "Oh, I do _love_ a Castiel with the original factory settings."

Before Cas could ask, I interrupted, pointing to the clearing up ahead. "Over there."

The tall grass was trampled flat, with stray bullet casings decorating the ground like casual glitter. Surveying the area, Crowley kicked a few out of his way, his playful tone now serious. "So. Is there anything that _wasn't_ shared earlier?"

Talk about not beating around the bush...

We stood apart, a little uncomfortable at the secret rendez-vous. Because what we needed right now was a pissed off John Winchester. _At us._ But it was worth the risk. We needed to talk without worrying about filling people in or convincing them this is real or constant backstory fill-ins.

Or maybe that was more _my_ need.

Cas started. "Not really. I was banished from the park right after Adam was found, and since very few humans know about that sigil, it is a good guess that an angel was behind it."

"We thought it was Uriel," I added, "But Metatron makes more sense, even though it also seems impossible." I sighed. "It just never occurred to me that it could even be him."

Sam folded his arms, his forehead wrinkled in thought. "Where _are_ you guys in the hunt for Azazel? And what's the situation in heaven?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, as far as Azazel goes, he knows Dad's on to him, and a couple demons have mentioned that he has plans for Sam... _Sammy_. But other than that, not much has happened since Jess died." Cas and I shared a look. "Well, except for meeting Cas. It seems like both Heaven and Hell want the Apocalypse, but not much is going on. We've been more focused on the demon blood in Sam- _Sammy_ _goddammit_ , I'll never get used to that. So...yeah."

Sam scrubbed his chin. In a soft voice, he asked, "How long ago did Jess die?"

Like I wanted to count the years. "Three…almost four."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, drawing a pattern with his boot in the dirt. "Is it Azazel's blood in Sammy?"

"Yeah."

He swallowed, eyes locked on the ground. "Has he…uh..."

"He has not manifested any supernatural powers at this time," Cas answered, "And there is no indication as to whether he will."

I broke in. "I haven't told them much about your...experiences. I mean...we just didn't talk about it...I wasn't hiding anything. What I know I got from the books, not you. Besides, other shit's been happening."

Sam nodded again, still processing. Crowley hummed, "So...Azazel's running amok, and as a Prince of Hell, he's sort of-kind of in charge down there. You said a version of me exists here, but if Azazel is here, that me is probably just in the crossroads department. What about heaven?"

Castiel's face fell. Poor guy's had faction fallout ever since I met him. "As Kate mentioned, the Apocalypse is an active topic in Heaven, especially since Azazel is starting to make plans in Hell."

Crowley snorted. "That was so five years ago."

Cas shrugged. "For you. For us, it's still a viable option. Although it is unclear how it can be brought about, given that Kate's existence altered the prophecies, and Adam is now with his father. I have not been briefed on whether Sammy is to be a vessel for Lucifer, or if the demons have another plan in mind."

Fuck _that_. "Sammy will _not_ be a vessel for Lucifer," I snapped.

Cas opened his mouth, but I cut him right the fuck off. " _End of story,_ Cas."

Sam held up his hands. " _Okay_...hold on. If the prophecies have shifted, then who knows what the angels want to happen, or even what _can_ happen. Do you even know what these prophecies originally said, Cas?"

Cas sighed his Cas-sigh. "No, I don't, which is actually quite embarrassing. I was originally sent to intervene early as a guardian over the Winchesters, but I was dispatched without real...evidence or...information. I just...followed orders."

"Will the similarities ever stop," Crowley muttered.

Sam flashed him a quick glare. "Okay. Here's the problem. Metatron will sense the uncertainty. As the Scribe in our world, he's a master storyteller. He can spout anything to get his way, and he probably will." He ran a hand through his hair. "In the chapel, he convinced us all that he was telling the truth. With all the powerful players still alive here, he has practically unlimited options."

"Exactly what _is_ his way? What does he want here?" I asked. My tone was a snazzy combination of petulant and bitchy.

Crowley shook his head. "We don't know. Our best guess is that this world is the only place he could escape to. Our heaven would not welcome him home - Naomi hated him too much. He knew you'd die with the third trial, and he knew that once you died, the spell would send your soul back here. If your brothers completed the trials, he would have had to figure out some other way to take revenge on Heaven. But with you...he must have known about Uriel's spell...which is why he showed up in the chapel. He wanted to make sure you completed the trials, providing an escape route."

"Our Cas said Metatron was disappointed in God's absence, and he was pissed that the other angels shunned him." Sam smiled ruefully at me. "Your reality is both a fresh start and a great way to get revenge without anyone really understanding what he's doing."

I shoved my hands in my hair "Revenge on who? People and...and beings who don't even know who the hell he is? That's fucking stupid!"

Crowley shrugged, a sad smile on his lips. "Metatron's had quite a long time to be resentful. In my experience, revenge doesn't always have to be exact. Sometimes...close enough works quite nicely."

I had a cleverly worded retort on my lips, but before I could utter a sound, a burn in my chest flared, prompting a coughing fit.

His hand on my back, I heard Sam ask, "Cas - what the hell is going on with her?"

I slowly straightened, realizing that I, too, wanted this answer.

Cas and Crowley shared a look. "Oh, this oughta be good," I muttered.

Cas sighed, his arms awkwardly folded in front of his chest. "Crowley and I have noticed that you're much worse than even last night."

Well, that was just... _bullshit_. I was supposed to be getting _better_. Sam brushed some hair off my face. "How's that possible?" I whispered, leaning closer when I felt his arm tighten around my shoulders.

Crowley, eyes downcast, murmured, "It's the wards."

"Huh?"

Cas nodded, his blue eyes unreadable. "During the trials, my grace healed you as the trials were killing you. It wasn't faster, but it countered the effects long enough for you to complete them. Once you returned here, _not_ undergoing rituals that deteriorated your body, my grace was able to heal you at a significant rate. However, by warding the house against angels, you essentially warded the house against angel grace. Without active grace…"

As Castiel's voice trailed off, Crowley picked up. "Without active grace, your body is unable to maintain the healing rate, so the effect of the trials dominates while you're in the house. I'm guessing that the added stress of the last twelve or so hours were an additional burden on your body." He shrugged a shoulder in apology.

My brain desperately tried to catch up. "So...saving my family is killing me?"

Cas swallowed, his eyes now filled with worry. "In a manner of speaking. Going back and forth between the wards and the outdoors is also adding to your body's difficulties. Every time you leave the house you feel better and are able to heal, but the damage being done while inside is now occurring at a much faster pace...and it's getting increasingly difficult to heal. You aren't outside longer than you are inside." He paused, apologetic. "It did not occur to me when I agreed to place the wards. Had I thought of it…"

Well, I couldn't help it - I laughed. One glance at Sam's sour face cut it right off, though. "Hey. I died to keep you and Dean safe, and I'm dying keeping your other yous safe. It's kinda funny."

I excel at finding the bright side.

He didn't agree. "There's no funny in this, Kate. We're getting rid of the wards."

Okay, that _wasn't_ funny. I stepped away from Sam, shaking my head. "Over my dead body." Fuck...poor choice of words.

"Poor choice of words, Natasha. Funny...but maybe not _haha_ funny," Crowley scolded. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Not mature, but it really was my instinctual response.

Sam huffed in frustration. " _Kate_ \- this isn't - "

Here we go again. Someone else who thought I didn't know what I was talking about. I cut him off. "You think I don't know what this is? I'm not _that_ scrambled."

"Yet," Cas murmured, not making eye contact.

I splayed my hands, my voice rising in both pitch and volume. "What other choice is there? Let the angels into our house again? Let them get Sam? That's how Uriel got me in the first place - standing in the _fucking living room_ chatting with me about prophecies. Now that we know Metatron is here, there is no fucking _**Goddamn**_ _**way**_ we can remove those wards and leave them unprotected. I can't do that to them. Don't ask me to do that!"

The more I spoke, the more panic set in. It was easy before - Dad and Bobby didn't know the sigils. Sammy wasn't gonna squeal, and if he did, well, I added a couple he didn't know about. I made sure they were safe. But _this_ Sam and Crowley...they could undo the wards easily. If Sam learned anything from Dean, the possibility of me dying again was surely enough to make him do just that.

Accompanying said panic was a fresh burn in my chest that radiated through blood vessels all over my body. I hadn't felt that sensation in a while, and it only made things worse. It was a no-brainer to say that I would do anything... _anything_...to save my family. But I'd be lying if I said that going through the trials _again_ was no big deal. Thoughts of being without my family resurfaced, dragging all the emotional baggage with it.

Spots appeared in my line of sight. I may have swayed a bit, because Sam's arm shot out to steady me, fear in his voice as he called my name.

In two steps, Cas reached my side, one hand cupping my cheek, snapping me out of that unproductive mental spiral as a cool tingling sensation wrapped around the base of my neck, pulsing in the scars on my chest.

 _Whoa…_

He frowned at me, shoulders sagging a bit. "Better?"

Blinking, I looked around. The panic abated, and although the burn in my chest remained, clarity broke through the fog of emotional overload. Sam let go and stepped back, eyes riveted on me. "Uh...yeah…" Wetting my lips, I gave Cas a rueful half-smile. "Sorry…"

His hand dropped to his side, shaking his head a little as he step-staggered away. "As Crowley said, your mental state is an additional stressor in this situation, exacerbating the effects. I...can give you more - "

"No," I muttered, shaking my head from side to side despite the dizziness. Sam reached out again, but this time I smacked his hand away.

Cas sighed, rolling his shoulders as if he could shake off the weariness now evident on his face. "I'll be okay."

" _ **No**_." This time, my tone was clipped, expressing my final thought of that suggestion. " _You're_ not fully healed either, and what you did just now with the…" I wiggled my fingers in a stupid attempt at miming angelic healing. "...wiped you out. You're not doing anything that will weaken you more." To just him, I added, " _We'll need you. You can't waste your powers. Not for me."_

Castiel's eyebrows rose as his voice responded in my head. " _How can you say that? You know that I do not consider this a waste."_

Like Dad breaking up a fight, Sam stepped between us, both hands up. "Stop it. Let's...hold on." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before dragging his hand down his face. He looked so much like Dean.

I almost cried.

No one spoke as we watched Sam struggle with the situation. Finally, he looked down at me. "I'm not gonna be a hypocrite." I raised an eyebrow that he graciously ignored. "This is your choice." He sighed, his eyes darting to the side, as if looking for Dean to back him up. "I'm trusting you...that...that you know what you're doing, and that you're making the choice you want to make."

The corner of my mouth quirked up. "Trying not to be Dean?"

His quirked back. "That's because you already are."

I tipped my head. _Touché, big brother._

Crowley cleared his throat, prompting us to turn and watch Adam jog over.

He waved awkwardly as he approached, slowing down as his gaze bounced to each of us. "Uh...Bobby sent me. Lunch is gonna be ready soon. And...so...yeah! Uh..." He thumbed over his shoulder. "They're grilling burgers and stuff, and…yeah..." He rocked back on his heels, a forced smile on his face.

I elbowed Sam. "He's so fucking cute. And dating Jo, by the way."

Sam's eyes widened. "Jo? And...and Ellen? They're here?"

Adam's forced smile became more relaxed when I walked to his side. "Uh, yeah! They're...here." Then, it faltered. "Why? Are you...I mean...are you and Jo…"

Sam's shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "No...we never...no. She was...more like a sister."

"Oh...ok," Adam said, relief evident. But then he caught it. "Wait, _was?_ "

Sighing, I took his arm and guided him toward the house. Behind me, I heard Sam exhale, "Was."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

Kate and Adam led the way back to Bobby's house. Sam was struck by how natural it felt to walk the gravel path, cross the driveway, and steer toward the back porch. Tears stung as he thought of the old hunter, and how much he missed him.

"Who wants cheese on their burgers?"

Bobby's actual voice startled Sam so much he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the porch where Bobby stood, leaning casually on the railing.

Gruff tone, _check_. Baseball cap, _check_. Slightly suspicious glint in his eye, _check_.

There was a crash, and Bobby ducked back inside yelling, "Get the hell away from the meat, John!"

"I was just tryin' to - "

"Yeahyeahyeah _you was just_. Go find a scroll to read."

Sam blinked. Friends with John Winchester... _check?_ He sighed. If only…

"Don't get wistful, Moose. This isn't your reality. It's Mr. Singer, yes, but not _your_ Mr. Singer."

Sam sighed, keeping pace with Crowley. "I know," he murmured. "It's just...makes me think how different it could've been. Better, maybe."

Crowley tilted his head from side to side, slowing his stride. "I understand. And who knows? Perhaps Bobby could've been your second dad." Sam choked. " _Exactly_. Every reality diverges due to miniscule differences. This reality diverged because of Kate, a notable lacking in our world. It's hard, but...you can't really wonder about this path existing for you. It just doesn't fit."

Sam dragged the toe of his shoe into the gravel, the tiny stones giving way to the pressure. "Yeah, I know. You're right. I guess...I guess after 2 years of living with her, it's kinda hard not to think…" He sighed again. "Anyway. I guess we're eating inside. You haven't been detected, right?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Samuel. I was cured of being a demon, not of my intellect. I'm not on demon radar, and I know how to stay that way. You go eat. I'll keep making sure no one is milling around. Well." He smirked. "Except for me."

He disappeared.

Cas walked over. "I, too, will leave you. Please call if you need anything." And then _he_ left.

That was a weird double exit, Sam thought, rubbing the back of his neck. Once again, he missed Dean. Sam wasn't sure he made the right choice by letting the wards stay in place. There had to be another way to keep them safe without sacrificing her.

Been there, done that, never again. Sam was done sacrificing his family for a greater good.

Although in this case, the greater good _was_ his family.

Why couldn't things be simple for a change?

 _If they were, we wouldn't know what to do with ourselves,_ Dean's voice sounded in his head. With a rueful sigh, Sam followed Kate and Adam into the house.

 **xxxxx**

The domestic scene in the kitchen was surreal, to say the least. Bobby was prepping a huge platter of burgers, Dad... _John_...was drinking beer and chatting with Dean at the table, and Sammy stood nearby, a can of soda in his hand, his eyes locked on their sister.

Sam never had this much family assembled together in his whole life. It brought back memories of the few visits he had with Jessica's family, and the longing it evoked. Now he had just that - a bizarre semblance of his family, in Bobby's kitchen, and...yeah, sooooo fucking weird.

"Wanna beer, Sam?" John asked, already heading for the fridge.

 _You have no idea._ "Sure - thanks."

He took the offered drink and stood awkwardly, fiddling with the bottle cap and trying not to make eye contact. Maybe if _he_ didn't see _them_ , _they_ wouldn't notice _him_.

 _Right_. Because they wouldn't notice a large version of their own Sam standing like a dufus in the middle of their kitchen.

Sam wracked his brain for something to say. The complete and utter loss for words brought a wave of discomfort that only served to propel the bottle to Sam's lips and encourage it to stay there. As he chugged, he noticed Kate gripping the refrigerator door handle, a sheen of sweat on her face. _Fuck_...the wards. Her throat convulsed a little, probably fighting the cough that threatened to escape and announce how badly she felt.

Unless you were at the right angle and really watching her, you would've missed it. With practiced casualness, she brushed the hair off her face, simultaneously wiping the sweat. She dried her hands on her jeans and opened the fridge, staring inside.

Without thinking, Sam set down his beer, reached past her and took out the cranberry juice. Taking her arm, he guided her to the side, holding out the juice, silently asking where the glasses were kept. At this point, he could feel everyone's eyes on him as the others' conversations faltered, but it didn't matter. She needed to be taken care of, he knew exactly what to do, so it didn't matter that it was awkward or maybe viewed as inappropriate.

At least that's what he kept telling himself.

Kate felt it, too. Her eyes flickered to the others before landing on the exact cabinet in which _Sam's_ Bobby kept the glasses (more fucking weird). Nodding, he grabbed one, filled it, and took a deep breath. He was clearly stepping on their territory, but again, he knew what he was doing. Besides. Caring for TrialKate was _his_ territory.

Right?

Right.

"You know the drill. Drink half, sit for a bit, then if you're good, you get the other half."

Kate nodded, fully compliant, which meant she really felt like shit. She didn't take the glass, though, which meant her hands weren't steady.

 _Goddammit_. His resolve to let her make her own decisions began to crumble.

Keenly aware of their audience, Sam plowed ahead, buying some time for her to regroup. Kate came before awkward social moments. "You eating a burger or grilled cheese?"

Kate bit her lip, casting a guilty look at Bobby, who walked over. "Makes no difference to me, Missy. If the sandwich sits better, that's what you'll get."

"If you puke, I am not cleaning it up. So, choose wisely, Squirt."

Kate rolled her eyes (carefully) at Dean, who, Sam thought, was two seconds away from shoving Sam to the side so he could care for his sibling. The Deans really _were_ almost identical. But he didn't, watching them instead. Not necessarily easier to deal with.

Luckily, Sam knew how to handle an overprotective Dean Winchester. He sidled away a bit, leaning back against the counter, beer back in one hand, the juice still in the other. Everything in him demanded he take full control of Kate's situation, but he knew, he really _really_ knew, who and what he was up against.

 _Know when to hold 'em…_

"Grilled cheese is better, Bobby...thanks." _Good girl._ Dean saluted her, sipping his beer, watching her like a hawk.

With a smoothness Sam never saw in his own father, John approached, wordlessly asking permission to take the juice. Sam handed it over. Despite the inner monologue, Sam wasn't about to go head to head with John.

He'd done enough of that, too.

John turned to his daughter. "So...half now, half later, right?"

Kate nodded, eyes darting between her dad and Sam.

John nodded back, his voice soft and reassuring. "Okay, then. Adam - will you help Kate get to the couch?" He passed the juice to Adam.

"Yeah, sure."

She huffed at Adam, who held her elbow with his free hand. "I can get to the couch, Dad. _Jesus_."

John didn't miss a beat. "I know you can. But if you spill that juice on someone's precious hardwood floor, someone's gonna throw a tantrum." Everyone chuckled.

From the burger platter came a loud snort. "Fuck you all. I'm gonna start cooking. Get out the chips."

A chorus of "Yes, ma'am" earned a middle finger as Bobby headed outside with the food.

When Adam got Kate out of the kitchen, John turned to Sam. "Can we talk?"

Sam nodded, "Of course!"

With his foot, Dean nudged a chair away from the table so Sam could sit. Sammy slid into a chair as well, offering a hesitant smile, which Sam returned.

John plopped down heavily with a sigh, casting a quick look over his shoulder at the living room before starting. "Look, I know this is kind of...I mean, I didn't really know...if…"

John Winchester at a loss for words?

"Nice, Dad," Sammy drawled. John let out an explosive breath, and leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Sammy to just take over.

Which, to Sam's surprise, he did.

And _what the fuck_ \- Sammy gave him a look with some _serious_ puppy-kitten-soulful eyes. Sam blinked. Is that what it felt like when he turned them on? Jesus Christ…

"This must be really...fucking weird for you."

Sam folded his hands around the beer bottle, huffing a laugh. "Yeah...it's...yeah. I mean," he glanced at John, "you've been dead for years. Bobby...we lost Bobby a few years ago. And…" He looked at an impossibly young Dean. "Yeah, this is a little weird. But honestly? No more weird than it was for Kate to deal with what she went through."

Dean snorted. "I cannot wait to kill that fucking asshole."

Sam nodded in agreement. "He was an asshole in our world, too."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Was?"

"Cas killed him."

"Who the hell's left alive over there?"

"Dean!" Sammy hissed, kicking him under the table.

Dean held up his hands. "What? I'm just askin'!"

"You're just askin' like a dick!"

"It's okay," Sam said, and he meant it. Normally that kind of question would prickle and sting, but coming from Dean? It was honest and real, with no baggage behind the words. "Well...Cas is alive, and Kevin and Charlie, but you don't know them. Um...Jody Mills is still alive."

"Kate mentioned she was there. She's...okay?" John's tone was casual, but Sam sensed more underneath.

"Yeah. She had a close call…" Probably a good idea not to mention that Crowley almost killed her. "But Kate and Cas saved her, actually. So, she's fine, now." Probably also a good idea not to mention that Crowley and Jody made up. _Big_ time.

John barely hid his relief as he took another long sip of beer.

"But other than that…" Sam scratched behind one ear, trying not to be overwhelmed by the depressing conclusion. "It's just me and Dean. And I guess now...just me."

"And the demon," Bobby interjected, returning inside to exchange the empty platter for a clean one.

Sam winced. He knew that was gonna be the tough sell. "Look, I know it's - "

"Fuckin' weird," Dean interrupted.

" - weird, yes, but Crowley…" He sighed. "We didn't know if the trials would work. A series of tasks laid out on a tablet of God seemed a bit fictional. Then again, we hunt monsters, right? But it worked. It really did. She cured him." Of course, talking about the trials or curing Crowley brought Sam right back to that day in the chapel. But he knew he'd have to revisit those events, probably a million more times.

Had to get over it.

"Did she really face Lucifer to set my soul free?"

Sam looked up at Adam's face - still young, maybe not as innocent as he remembered (setting aside what he remembered was a ghoul pretending to be Adam…), but innocent enough. The guilt from not being able to rescue him was somewhat abated by Kate's actual rescue.

Not by much, though.

"She did. We got her into Hell, and she faced Lucifer _and_ Michael, actually. And she faced them alone."

"Why couldn't you wait to talk until the food was done?" Bobby muttered, scurrying back outside to keep the meat from burning.

"It's not that we doubted her, but…" Sammy looked apologetic.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. "I know. Lucifer's a harder pill to swallow. But he's real. I...I've had to deal with him, too." And there goes the rest of his beer down his throat.

It was obvious they had more questions. The need to verify and learn details was a priority, and Sam knew that in order to get their help with Metatron, they needed those answers. Not only did they need as much knowledge as possible, they needed their curiosity satisfied so they could focus. It made sense - Sam was the same way.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that they were wasting time.

Still…

Dean got a fresh round of beer, and Adam joined them at the table after making sure Kate was asleep on the couch.

Sam leaned back, crossed his legs at the ankles, and opened his second bottle. "So...what do you want to know?"


	8. Chapter 8

_**Kate…**_

Everything thrummed. I wasn't even sure that was a word, but that's what it felt like.

Thrumming.

Dean said the changes my body was going through probably affected my nervous system. He also thought that if I took a multivitamin every day, it would keep me alive longer.

Dean's so funny.

I heard voices in the kitchen, and figured he was testing another recipe designed to make me tolerate food more regularly. Kevin was most likely trying to figure out how to respond to his absurdity.

Like I said, he's _so funny_.

I slowly sat up, carefully stretching so I didn't launch a coughing fit. My eyes peeled open to find... _oh, hooray_...I was hallucinating Bobby's house, today. My shoulders sagged, my head bowed, and I heaved a dramatic sigh.

I was so _not_ funny.

Hallucinations made Dean jumpy. When Dean got jumpy, he hovered. When he hovered, I got zero autonomy.

Nothing funny there at all.

I dragged myself upright and shuffled toward the kitchen. Ooooh, how fun - tonight, Fucked Up Kate will conjure up her father, staring at her in confusion while she passed him by. I rolled my eyes. Dean will have a fucking _field_ _day_ with this. Maybe a little coffee was in order. Maybe the caffeine would clear my head.

I stood in "Bobby's" doorway to the kitchen. Sam sat at the table, a few empty beer bottles scattered in front of him. Flanking him, though, was...Bobby, Dad, Dean, Sam, and Adam. I counted everyone just to be sure.

Yup. Five people who didn't belong here, and one who did.

 _Hooray…_

Dad was asking if I was okay. Like I wanted to answer my conjured up family in front of Sam and within earshot of Dean.

 _Okay_. This was okay. I could do this. Just...ignore them. Pretend that I was pretending to see them...because...I...was.

 _Sigh._

Sam was watching me pretty closely, so I plastered a smile on my face and turned toward the cabinets. Realizing that I still saw only Bobby's kitchen and not the Bunker made my next move a bit tricky. Which cabinet in Bobby's house lined up to the cabinets in the Bunker? How would I explain grabbing a colander instead of a glass?

"You okay?" Sam asked, pushing his chair back and standing. His brow wrinkled up like he was solving a puzzle.

Quick glance over my shoulder revealed my family still there, looking even more confused than before. Awesome - my imagination was hurt that I wouldn't acknowledge it. Only me.

"Yeah...just…" I made swirling gestures around my head. "A little...off. Well, more off than normal. I can't… _*sigh*_ which door is hiding the glasses? I gotta get this taste out of my mouth."

Sam stepped closer, head tilted, eyes assessing. "What taste, Kate?"

Really? I lowered my voice to a whisper. "The blood, Sam, what else? I can't have him hovering today so just...help me find a fucking glass."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "You can't have who…?" Then his mouth formed a little O shape. "Hey…" He moved in front of me, eyes locked on mine. "Where are you?"

I blinked back. "Did you hit your head or something? I'm the one who can't keep shit straight." A harsh cough burst forth, leaving me dizzy, and prompting Sam to help hold me up. The coppery taste of warm blood lined my mouth, and when I looked down at my sleeve, flecks of red dotted the fabric. "Shit…"

"Did...did she just cough up _blood?_ " All five imaginary men stood up, eyes wide with alarm.

Resignation washed over me. This was getting _way_ out of hand...confession time for sure.

But then I heard Sam answer them. "Yeah...but it's not bad."

"Whaddya mean it's not bad? She's coughing up blood!"

"Just... _hold on_ a minute…okay? Just… _*sigh*_ "

 _That's_ when I froze. My eyes slid to Dad and the others, trying to get to my side. They slid to Sam, death grip on my arm, while his other hand waved for them to stay back.

As I glanced around the familiar yet not familiar kitchen, a tiny bud of panic began to bloom. Something was out of whack, and it was becoming apparent that regardless of how ridiculous and impossible everyyhing seemed, the out of whack portion was _me_.

I pulled my lip between my teeth, carefully cleared my throat, and practically sobbed, "Sam…?"

He turned back to me, his thumb gently wiping away what I suspect was a dribble of blood from the corner of my mouth. "Yeah?"

"You...see them?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah…" He must have gotten a good look at my face which probably reflected the sheer confusion and anxiety that now coursed through my entire body. " Hey... _hey_...lookit me." _There_ was my focus - hazel eyes, forcing a calm neither of us felt. "Outside. _Now_."

I just nodded. No argument, no questions. _Outside Now_ was something I could do. Right then, I trusted _this_ Sam. I knew _he_ was real.

A strong hand on my back propelled me out the door, down the steps and toward a plastic chair near the grill. The lingering smell of charred beef turned my stomach, so I closed my eyes, and worked on not throwing up.

Sam tugged on my sleeve. "Nono - not here. Too close to the grill." I cracked one eye open and saw Dean grab the chair and march it several feet away, setting it onto a patch of grass.

He looked too young. No. _Wait_. He looked...just right?

Clutching Sam's arm, I stood in the yard as events and information slowly fell into place. I felt like one of those children's puzzle toys, the kind you turn it upside down and all the little beads float out of their compartments, but when you turn it right side up, they gently settle back into place. The thrumming began to fade, reality caught up, and…

 _Riiiiight_...I was home...Sam was here...and Dean was missing.

 _Fuck_.

"Sit down for a minute," Sam ordered, his tone a smidge more clipped instead of worried. I felt the argument brewing inside him, and I knew I needed my head back together before engaging. But there was another emotional wave from my family, demanding answers, not at all appreciating Sam taking the lead let alone my refusal to acknowledge them.

It was honestly too much for one minute. I folded into the chair, shut my eyes, and let my brain catch up so my heart could settle down.

"What's going on?" Dad insisted. He sounded far away, but I knew that if I peeked, he'd be right there. Dean's hand rested on my shoulder a moment before stroking my hair. Hand trembling, his brain fervently looked for a way to fix this.

There was no fixing _this_.

" _There_ _ **is**_ _a way to fix this. You don't need to die, Kate."_

I raised my chin in acknowledgement of Castiel's words, cautiously opening my eyes in time to see him, and Crowley, pop into view. Trial Kate thought her life was pointless. But Trial Kate was supposed to be dead, not popping up during barbeques. So, I kept my mouth shut.

Sam was pacing, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, weighing his words in an effort to avoid a fight with...everyone. Pointedly avoiding my gaze, Sam faced Dad head on, voice low, words spilling in a rush. "Kate's not healing because of the wards on the house. The blood…" he waved a hand at me, catching my eye for a second before returning to Dad, "it's part of the Trials. Her organs are...deteriorating. As her body changes, she responds in different ways. Coughing up blood was common. She was like this for months before…" His voice trailed off into a huff.

Dad nodded slowly, eyes darting between me and Sam, surprisingly calm. "So, the wards have to come down," he said matter-of-factly, like he'd been looking for a reason to do just that.

Sam blew out a breath, choosing his words carefully. "I...If...if the house stays warded, and she stays in the house, she'll die." Sam didn't even look at me when he said that.

Tired of being ignored, I struggled to my feet, shrugging off Dean's hand. "Hold on." It took three tries, but I finally stood up, Dean hovering in case I fell.

Borderline confidence told me I could now enter the conversation. "The wards can't come down."

Dean snapped, "Yes, they can."

"Dean…" I growled.

He shook his head back and forth, waggling a finger at me. "Nonono, you don't get to _Dean_ me when you're coughing up blood! I mean what the hell, Kate? You knew this was killing you and you said nothing?!"

"I just found out." Dean snorted. "Besides, I've told you why the wards have to stay. It's more important than - "

" _Don't_ say it," Dean barked, his voice low and threatening. "That's _bullshit_ , and you know it."

"What's bullshit exactly, Dean?" I asked, irritation rising fast. "Looking at a bigger picture, or the picture itself?"

Sam splayed his hands. "Look, there has to be another way, okay? There has to be a way to both keep Sammy safe and you from dying."

Crowley cleared his throat, but everyone ignored him.

Bobby scrubbed at his beard. "So, you really think Sammy's at risk?"

They were all looking at Sam, like he held all the answers.

"Are you shitting me?" I yelled, blood pressure rising with anger and frustration. "I've been telling you that for weeks!"

"Kate…" Dad gave me this sorrowful look, telling me he knew I was right, but that right now wasn't the time.

Just like always.

Well, I was _done_. The combination of the Trials, mixed realities, worry, anxiety, stress, heartache, and confusion was too much. I snapped. "You know what? _Fuck_ you. Fuck you _all_."

Then, I stomped off.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

Everything happened so _fast_. Sam wasn't used to multiple people in one space centrally involved in whatever was going on. How did he go from just him and Dean to a gaggle of people? He was still wrung out and exhausted, trying to grapple with the situation just like...just like Kate.

Sam stared at her retreating back, not sure whether he should go after her or stay to deal with John and Dean. Which...he hasn't had to do in a really long time.

This was so fucked up.

"I'll talk to her." Hands in his pockets, Sammy shouldered past everyone. Without stopping, he glanced over his shoulder. "I mean, since this whole thing involves the two of us, seems like we're the ones who should be making the decisions."

 _Ouch_.

Sam applauded him on the inside - it was such a Sam thing to say.

And he was right.

Sammy caught up with Kate, spoke into her ear, then guided her toward the garage, arm around her shoulders.

Was it possible to be jealous of yourself? _Jesus_.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tears prickling and not wanting to lose it in front of his...her... _them_.

"She's really mad," Adam murmured.

Sam wiped at his eyes, and ventured a look at the youngest brother. The innocence of Sam's Adam was gone - this Adam had seen some shit. Sam could tell he loved his sister, and felt seriously out of his league with the whole situation.

Join the club.

Dean flapped a hand. "Sammy'll handle her."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean sighed. "He can talk to her. Clearly, I'm not suited for that job."

Sam huffed. "Look...I don't know your dynamic, okay? Kate said we were really...similar. But only she knows what that means. I just...I only know Kate. I get that my...relationship...with her is upsetting."

Bobby shook his head. "It ain't upsetting, son. It's fuckin' weird. That's all. If we're all...similar to ourselves…" He grimaced at the awkwardness of that statement. "...Then you know we don't exactly socialize. It's hard having someone else take care of her. But we know you care, and honestly, that's most important."

Sam smiled a little. "You know, I, uh, had a real hard time letting her in when she first showed up. But...she was with us for over two years." He paused, adding in a soft voice, "and she's kinda all I have left right now."

His words hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Sam wasn't someone that just...opened up to people, let alone people he just met. But _these_ people kinda weren't people he just met. The relief of having Dad and Bobby and Dean to share with was...overwhelming.

Dean plopped into the chair, hands clasped behind his head, eyes on the ground. "So, now what?"

Crowley politely coughed, stepping closer to avoid being ignored. "Well, we can go back and forth all day...but I think it'd be more productive to find a way to keep Kate alive." He paused. "Castiel and I have a suggestion, if that helps."

"This should be interesting," Bobby muttered.

Sam's eyes flickered to John before centering on Crowley. "What is it?"

"Right now, we don't know what Metatron wants, and all the big players are still alive, here. That's too many unknowns. Too many archangels, and frankly, all the princes of Hell. We know what Azazel wanted in our world. He wanted _you,_ Moose. We know what _Lucifer_ wanted in our world. He wanted...oh, yes, _you_. You cannot fault Kate for fearing for her Baby Moose."

Sam shot Crowley a bitchface.

Adam asked, "Why does he keep calling you and Sammy Moose?"

Sam's nostrils flared. "Long story."

Crowley scoffed, "No, it's not." He smiled at Adam. "Sometimes your alternate universe brother is thick, just like Bullwinkle."

"Crowley…" Sam warned.

"Oh," Adam said. "So, that means…" He glanced at Dean who shot him a withering look. "Uh...nevermind." Dean grunted, looking away.

Crowley smirked.

John...kept quiet. He just stood there, eyes narrowed, rubbing his chin, listening, weighing options, thinking... _something_. Sam knew that look.

"Anyway…" Crowley exchanged a look with Cas before continuing. "Let's look at this dilemma, shall we? The wards _are_ a good idea, given the circumstances. However, simply put, they're killing Kate. There's no way around that. She'll be dead within a month if she stays in the house."

Dean inhaled sharply at that, rising to his feet.

"But she goes outside, sometimes. Doesn't that...I mean…doesn't she heal when she's outside?" Adam asked timidly.

Cas gave Adam a small smile, answering in a gentle voice. "Kate needs to fully heal, Adam, not switch between healing and dying. And right now, she's losing that fight."

Adam blinked. "Oh…"

Crowley went on, pacing a little, his hands making small Crowley-like gestures. "But, the wards _do_ need to stay. So...it seems that the logical solution is to remove Kate from the wards, rather than remove the wards themselves."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bobby broke in, clearly unhappy with the suggestion. "What do you mean remove Kate from the wards? Where's she supposed to go? And with who? _You?_ "

"No. _Me_." Castiel stood straighter. "And Sam."

Dad's eyebrows shot up, and Dean shook his head back and forth, a sarcastic chuckle escaping past his lips.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's little bursts of incredulity.

"It's logic, Sam. There are two problems, so why not have two solutions?"

John asked, "What are you suggesting, _exactly?_ "

Crowley shrugged, hands in his pockets. "We're suggesting that Kate leaves the house until she's properly healed. At that point, the wards will still be annoying, but they won't be killing her. Castiel and Sam can stay with her. The rest of you would stay in the warded house," he paused here and Sam knew something unpleasant was about to follow. "...with me."

If Sam thought the other news was a conversation stopper, _this one_ beat it by a mile.

Still...his mind raced with possibilities. Sammy would be safe. Kate could get better. Sam could.. _.cue the guilt_...spend time alone with Kate.

Dean spat, "So Cas and Sam will watch over Kate. Not us?"

Castiel straightened, squaring his shoulders. "I can watch over her."

Dean snorted. "That's real convenient, isn't it? Kate's dying, and _you're_ her savior? What makes you think you can keep her safe?"

Castiel's eyes flashed blue, and for a _split second_ , Sam saw his wings spread out, like a bird ruffling his feathers, ready to prove his worth.

Trying to placate Dean, Sam said, "I'll be with her, too."

"Bang up job you've done with her so far," Dean muttered.

John sighed. "That's enough, Dean."

Dean threw his hands in the air, moving to stand by Adam, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he had to deal with this.

Sam couldn't have agreed more. Crowley's plan had merit, despite the selfish reasons for liking it, it did make sense. But it wasn't up to Sam.

And yeah, Kate died on his watch...in his arms. He's had months to reflect on that, trying to find something different he could have done. But he knew - there was nothing. The Trials finished their course, and he couldn't stop that.

Still...Dean's words punched Sam in the gut.

The yard fell silent, sprinkled with little exasperated huffs and shuffling feet.

John ran his hands through his hair. "This is a really shitty choice." Sam wasn't sure if he was talking to them or himself. "I feel like I'm supposed to choose one kid over another, and...the father in me isn't willing to do that. The hunter in me, however, is looking at the bigger picture." He paused, flashing Sam a quick smile. "Sammy's been working on me to see the bigger picture, because I've been so hell bent on hunting Azazel, I forgot what it meant to be a father. Funny how now, that bigger picture means that Sammy needs to be protected, so this world is protected. And in order to do that, my daughter must leave my side."

Sam had to work really hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. His dad never would have admitted that.

John's face fell. "I don't know if I'm making the right choice. I only know that right now, I feel like it's my only choice, if I want to save them both."

Castiel interrupted. "There are powerful angels and demons here, and yes...the Winchester line is prominent. But there are no guarantees right now. This is just a precaution, and a temporary one."

"Seems to me we need to get our hands on these prophecies. Find out what's what," Bobby said.

Cas nodded. "Agreed. I've been working on that." He turned to John. "I will protect your daughter with my life."

The corner of John's mouth lifted a little. "I know you will."

In unison, everyone turned toward the garage. Bobby sighed. "Well, I guess we're movin' furniture so you're not sleeping in the Impala."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

I'd gotten all of ten feet before Sammy caught up with me.

"C'mon...garage." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the garage.

Out of everyone, Sammy was the only one who didn't dismiss Uriel's curse. He seemed to understand. I mean, he did help me put up the wards. That's the only reason I simply huffed and let him steer me inside the old building, past the junkers and tools, and onto the battered couch in the back.

I threw myself into the corner with an exasperated huff.

Sammy leaned against the hood of a car, giving me an amused look. "So...you just told Dad to fuck off."

 _Guh…_

I winced. "Yeah…"

One look at him, and my teenage angst faded. We broke out laughing.

"How pissed do you think he is?" I asked.

Sammy shrugged, still chuckling. "I don't think he is, actually. At least you got your point across."

I huffed. "Well, come on, Sam. They don't listen. They think I'm delusional."

Sammy crossed his legs at the ankles. "Not all the time."

We both snorted at that.

He sighed. "Look. We need to sort out a couple things."

I arched an eyebrow.

"My life isn't worth more than yours." Before I could argue, he held up a hand. "Shut up a minute, Kate." I clamped my mouth shut. "I...I may be a threat to...everything. I get that. And I believe _I've_ been telling everyone _that_ for, I dunno, months."

Touché…

"But I'm not gonna play _Who Should Die For Whom_ with you."

"Only you would use _Whom_ ," I drawled.

He flipped me the bird and kept going. "My point is this. Maybe you felt like a third wheel over there...with...them. But here? If you feel like that, then you're the one with the issues, because the rest of us don't think that. You need to snap out of that frame, because it doesn't hold water, here."

 _Goddammit_.

I sagged into the corner, the rage draining out of me. Sensing my defeat, Sam sat next to me.

He ran his fingers over the blood stains on my sleeve. "This right here scares the shit out of me, Kate." His voice trembled a little, and he cleared his throat to get control. "I can't...I can't watch you die. I don't know how that Sam did it. But me...I _can't_." His voice broke.

"Oh, Sam. I _*sigh*_ the Trials were...they really messed with my head. I was, and am, willing to die for you. There's no question there. But the Trials made me feel like...I _should_ die. And I get it - I'm not there, I'm here. I guess with the wards...I forgot."

We stared at each other a minute.

Sam pursed his lips. "I don't...I'd rather take my chances and drop the wards. But I know... _I know_...that's not a good option. Not now. It's...selfish. So...maybe there's another way to - "

"There is another way."

We looked up to see Dean, sauntering over, hands thrust in his pockets. We moved over so he could sit on my other side, arm draped over my shoulders.

"Crowley suggested that you, Sam and Cas move in the garage, and they'll keep you safe." _Ooh_ , he said that in such a snarky tone. "And the rest of us will stay in the house with the wards."

I let that idea soak in, feeling guilty at loving the opportunity to be with Sam, but also hating being away from everyone.

"It's just temporary," Dean warned. "So don't...don't get comfortable with your new brother."

And there it was.

I nudged Sam to keep him from commenting, but I _heard_ him roll his eyes.

There were several different ways to deal with Dean's insecurities. I could have ignored him. I could have just walked away...again. I could have started another argument to defend Sam, defend my relationship with him, defend my feelings for all my brothers. But neither addressed what was really at play, here.

Dean felt slighted.

Dean's job of taking care of his younger siblings was being taken away.

Dean didn't have control.

Dean needed assurance that I loved him.

I leaned back, resting my head on his shoulder, and squeezed his hand, the anger from earlier long forgotten.

He squeezed back, sighing his apology.

Sam curled against me, and we just sat together for a bit.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Hi...yeah. I'm carving more time to write, and I think I got over the writer's block with this chapter. Meh. On the plus side, I pounded out Chapter 10 as well, so that'll get uploaded in 5 minutes. Thanks again for sticking with this story...and I know...you probably have to go back and reread Quantum and Snippets to even remember what's going on. Yeah.**_

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

In addition to the basement panic room, this Bobby had a mini safehouse above the garage. From the outside, it looked as if the roof tented for storage. On the inside, you had to know where the entrance was so you could climb upstairs into the little bedroom built for hunters that needed a place to crash, out of sight from law enforcement. A tiny bathroom, with a functional shower, completed the hidden apartment.

He wondered if _his_ Bobby had the same setup.

Kate and Adam worked on cleaning it up while Dean and Sammy grabbed extra furniture. After a while, Kate was relegated to an old couch in the garage to just sit. The effects from stress and the trials that day definitely took their toll on her.

Sam was left trying not to be in the way. He tried to help clean, but the room was too small for three people to effectively work. Her Sammy and Dean didn't need help hauling the bed and other supplies. Well, they probably did, but Sam got the distinct impression he was intruding on something by helping, so out of the way he became.

Besides, fatigue _pulled_ at him. The day's events left him completely drained. He suspected he didn't look much better than Kate. Truthfully? This was more interaction than he'd had in...well...since forever. His body tingled, his head pounded, his muscles ached. Alone time with Kate and sleep was the only motivator keeping him upright.

John found him awkwardly standing in the kitchen, one hand in his hair, the other folded across his middle for warmth.

 _Very_ classy.

"Hey...c'mere…"

Sam's eyebrows rose as he followed John into Bobby's library. Sam sucked in a breath. He hadn't been in Bobby's library in years. At least, not looking like this.

"You alright, son?" Bobby asked, eyes narrowed, looking him over, checking to see if he was okay.

Just like Bobby. _Exactly_ like Bobby.

Who was Sam kidding? He _was_ Bobby.

Sam swallowed. "Yeah...sorry. Just...tired. Been a day…" He shrugged a shoulder, trying to pass off the pain. He cleared his throat. "I loved this room."

Bobby watched him a moment before nodding his head. "Seems to be a Sam thing."

Sam smiled, gesturing at the bookcases. "You have lots of the same stuff, too." He took a step closer, then hesitated. "May I?"

Bobby swept his arm wide. "Be my guest."

Slowly, Sam scanned the shelves for familiar tomes, fingers barely brushing against the leather spines. "You had some amazing stuff." He winced, glancing over his shoulder. " _Have_...I meant _have_."

Bobby's eyes softened. "I know what you meant."

Sam went back to scanning the shelves, stopping to tap on one large book. "I remember this one. Helped us with a dragon…"

"A what?"

"Yeah...a dragon. It was...um...trying to open Purgatory and free Eve." That seemed like forever ago. "Long story."

"Sounds like you have a few of those," Bobby said.

Sam ran fingers through his hair. "Yeah...yeah, we do."

John poured himself a glass of Scotch, and a second for Bobby. He held it up, eyebrows raised, asking Sam if he wanted one, too. Sam already had some beer. If he added whiskey to the mix, he'd probably pass out right there, so he shook his head no and returned to the shelves.

After the bottle clanked against the desk, John took a healthy swallow. "We know you're still...getting used to all of us. And _we're_ still processing...everything. But...tomorrow - "

Sam turned around, thankful for John's need to _do_. "We need a plan, and those prophecies while we're at it so we can try to figure out Metatron's next move." He caught himself, stopping short, blood rushing to his cheeks. "I mean...if...that's okay." They were, in a weird way, his family...but he was a visitor. He couldn't expect them to drop everything and help him find Dean. Especially now that their Sam's situation became more urgent.

Instead of getting snippy, John looked relieved. "I was hoping you'd be ready to start working. Those prophecies will help us both. Get some sleep. We'll get started tomorrow." He paused. "We really would appreciate any help you can give us with Sammy."

"Absolutely. I'll do whatever I can," Sam promised. _Anything_ to help another him _not_ go through what _he_ went through.

John smiled. "I know you will. And we'll do the same for you. I promise. We'll find Dean."

Sam didn't realize how powerful those words were - especially coming from his father. Immediately his eyes welled, words failed him, and all he could do was stand there, trying not to cry. He knew he stood before this John with unknown baggage, but he couldn't help it.

After all these years, John Winchester still had an impact.

Without a word, this John set down his drink, and in two steps had his arms around Sam. Before Sam knew what he was doing, he returned the gesture, fixing his heart after years of regret.

John stepped back, a slight frown on his face. He reached out again, this time lying the back of his hand on Sam's forehead and cheek. "Check the bags Dean packed. I know he packed Advil for you two."

Maybe it was the shock on Sam's face, or maybe John realized what he did. Either way, his cheeks _flamed_ red. John quickly reached for his whiskey, emptying it in a few swallows, his eyes rooted to the bottom of the glass.

" _Alrighty_ , then," Bobby chirped, making a show of shuffling papers and parchment. "Get some sleep, Sam. We'll talk tomorrow."

Not trusting his voice, Sam nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he hurried from the room.

He grabbed his duffel from the front hallway, and left the house. The moment he hit the porch, Crowley popped into view.

"You look like shit, Moose."

"Shut up, Crowley," Sam sighed, sounding like someone used to being needled on an hourly basis. He headed to the stolen car, wanting the backpack and second duffel stashed inside.

"I'm serious, Sam. You look as bad as her..." Crowley leaned against the car as Sam opened the back door, hefting the other two bags onto his shoulders. "...which only points to the family resemblance."

Sam readjusted the weight and shook hair out of his eyes. Before he could stop himself, he muttered, "I'm not really her family." Exhaustion and frayed nerves tended to make one's tongue loose and unreliable. He slammed the door, huffing at Crowley's raised eyebrows. "Don't listen to me. I'm just…" He sighed.

Crowley ticked off reasons on his fingers. "You're worried, anxious and wanting your squirrel back. Kate is still hurting from the trials...and that wasn't expected." They began the trek toward the garage. "Nor, I might add, were you really prepared to face everyone. I _understand_ , Sam. But just because you're from different realities, doesn't mean you're not family. I believe it was Mr. Singer who said that family doesn't end with blood."

Sam said nothing, focusing instead on placing one foot in front of the other. With a sigh of his own, Crowley gently took the two bags off Sam's shoulders.

He was too tired to argue.

When they reached the garage, Sam paused. "Hey...what're you going to... _do?_ " He forgot, sometimes, that Crowley didn't sleep, and more than a little guilt surfaced over not considering his dimension traveling partner.

Crowley smiled. "What I do every night. Contemplate my life, consider my future, commiserate with the humans I've hurt. I'm also trying to come up with ideas for finding Dean. All we have to go by is knowledge of what happened in our reality. We're ahead in time, so to speak, since you are older than this Sam, so maybe that can help. Knowing events that occurred for us can at least give us a starting point. Sort of like using Wikipedia for a research. Not always reliable, but definitely a good place to start."

Sam blew out a breath through his nose, taking back the bags. "Listen...thanks for...everything. I'm sorry that - "

Crowley shrugged, cutting Sam off. "You're welcome. It's me who owes you. Owes _her_. Now go upstairs and rest. It sounds like John and Mr. Singer are eager to start working tomorrow."

And with that, he disappeared.

Sam rotated his shoulder before hoisting his bags and heading inside. Sammy and Adam were just coming downstairs, Adam looking worried, and Sammy looking like this was no big deal. Sam questioned that, given how Adam was acting and how Dean was _re_ acting. But Sam respected whatever outward appearance Sammy needed to give. He knew the truth always got out. It was only a matter of time.

"Hey…"

They looked up. Adam smiled. "Hey there! Uh...Kate's upstairs already. She...really needs to lie down." _No kidding._ Adam looked at him critically. "You need to lie down, too."

Sam smiled back. "Yeah, you're the fourth person to tell me that."

Adam shrugged. "That just means I'm not wrong. Dean packed a bunch of stuff." Sammy snorted. Adam shoved him. "So there's plenty of supplies."

Sam nodded, listening to Adam prattle on about food and first aid and other necessities stocking their little apartment. He listened to Adam, but he watched Sammy, who simply would not make eye contact with Sam at all. Hands in his pockets, he looked anywhere but _at_ Sam, nodding to Adam's words, and once, glancing over his shoulder at the stairs.

When Adam finished, Sam added, "Thanks a lot."

Adam smiled. "No problem. Just...you know. Keep an eye on her?" He asked in this small voice, like he was actually afraid that Sam would refuse.

"I will. I promise."

Adam visibly relaxed, while Sammy actually tensed up a bit.

Sam understood. He was in their territory. And they couldn't do anything about it.

 _Tread softly._

"We'll see you tomorrow." Sammy flashed a hesitant smile before leading Adam out of the garage.

All that was left, was Dean.

 _Ugh_.

There was this mixed bag of emotion...relief from having _**a**_ Dean around combined with his presence widening the emptiness sitting in Sam's gut because it wasn't _his_ Dean. Again, how Kate did this for two years baffled him. He'd only been here one day and he felt sick to his stomach.

Halfway up the steps, he realized the door to the apartment was open, and Dean's voice floated down.

"I'm not fucking around here, Kate. I know you're just in the fucking backyard, but you're - "

" _All the way_ across the yard. Yes, I know, Dean. I have my phone. It's plugged into the wall. Cas is...around here somewhere. I'll be fine."

Dean snorted.

She paused, continuing in a softer tone. "Let me put it this way. You're stressing me out, which is making this worse. I'm sorry this is hard on you, but the honest truth is that Sam's been through this shit with me...and _worse_...already. Like it or not, he knows what to do. Stop _fighting_ us."

The voices got softer, and Sam got _real_ uncomfortable listening in, so he backpedaled downstairs to give them a couple minutes alone. That whole conversation brought back more memories of Kate with his Dean and that pit in his gut just churned a little more.

Footsteps thumped on the stairs and an impossibly younger Dean emerged, looking raw and frazzled, until he caught sight of Sam. Then everything got boxed up, except for the worry in his eyes.

"Hey - she's upstairs." Dean thumbed toward the steps while eyeballing Sam up and down. "You look about to drop, man."

Sam laughed. "Yeah. I've been told. Um...listen…"

Dean held up a hand, cutting him off. "Look...I'm sorry about earlier. I was a dick. I know you'll watch her, that none of this is on you. I'm just not used to her world being beyond us, you know? It was one thing to hear about it, but another thing to...see it. And...when she starts going on about being willing to die or not being important enough to live…" He shook his head. "Fuckin' drives me nuts."

Sam nodded. How many times had he and Dean been willing to die for each other? _Actually_ died for each other? The excuse always being that the other was more deserving to live, more worthy of life.

It was one thing to be on a hunt and to take a claw to the chest or a stab wound for another. It was something else to plan out your death based on a sense of mortal inadequacy.

Sam realized that Kate probably hadn't shared her real reasons for starting the trials, her own sense of mortal inadequacy that originated in this reality. But that was a conversation for another day, when Sam wasn't about to fall over.

"Listen, you're about to fall over. There's Advil up there. I told her to take some...not sure if she did." The corner of Dean's mouth quirked up. "Call if you need anything." He clapped Sam on the shoulder, and left.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

The apartment was... _okay_. Adam and I (fine, _Adam…_ ) cleaned it up as best as we could. Don't get me started on the toilet. In the end, it was decent and sanitized and spider free (made Dean check...hey, I was a hunter, but still a little sister.)

The room held my bed, a loveseat, a table and two chairs. A sink and a mini-fridge sat to the side with a microwave and a couple cabinets. The bathroom was, thankfully, in a separate space, complete with a fan. I sent Bobby a thank-you text for that.

The apartment was cramped, but functional, and almost perfect in that a crowd of people simply could _not_ fit in there.

I wasn't up for handling more crowds of people, and I would bet Bear that Sam wasn't, either. He'd been holding up pretty well, considering he was a fevered mess just that morning. My family was also hanging in there, although probably reeling from conversations they had with Sam while I was passed out on the couch producing blood outta my mouth.

I tried to open the bottle of Advil that Dean pointedly set on the table, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough for me to line up the stupid arrows on the cap and rim.

"Here - I'll do it."

I jumped, not hearing Sam enter, two bags slung on his shoulders, and another in the hand not reaching for the medicine. I was annoyed at my inability to open a simple bottle. With an irritated huff, I handed it over as he dropped his stuff to the floor.

He glanced up, an amused _twinkle_ in his eye. Before he could say anything, I muttered, "Oh, fuck you. Just open it. You need some as much as I do."

Shrugging his eyebrows, Sam neatly aligned the symbols and popped off the cap. "So I've been told." He poured out a few, eyes flickering up to mine. "Two or three?"

"Four?"

Oooh, Sour Sam.

" _Fine_. Three."

Sam handed them over, then shook out a few for himself. I uncapped a water bottle also pointedly left on the table, took a swig and swallowed them down. Sam followed suit, handed back the bottle, and…

...and we just stood there.

Awkwardly.

The problem with awkward silences is the myriad of thoughts and emotions one considers while drowning in the sheer quiet.

Finally, I looked over. "I can't believe you're really here." He made that face, where his eyes soften, his brows knit together, and his shoulders slump a little. So Sam. My Sam hadn't perfected that look yet, so it was one hundred percent all his, reminding me that yeah, this was happening.

"I can't either, to be honest. I never thought I'd…" He took a shaky breath, in and out, through his nose, trying to control his emotions.

Well, fuck that.

"Just us here, Sam." I stepped close, buried my face in his chest, and sighed in relief when his arms wrapped around me.

We stayed there a minute, conveying whatever needed conveying through that one hug. The words simply weren't adequate to describe what we were feeling. But just like the night before, I began to notice a slight tremble, a little warmth, and I knew he was exhausted.

Stepping back, I wiped my eyes and gestured toward the bathroom. Let's get ready for bed. I'm gonna drop, even though I already had a nap."

Sam nodded, setting one of the duffels on the table. "Yeah, me too." He fiddled with the zipper.

I tugged on his sleeve. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Yeah...yeah, okay."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

At first, it was whimpering. Plaintive, childlike almost, sobs without tears, begging for help. Sam was dreaming about my death, about Dean's disappearance. It took a long time to settle him down, and get him back to sleep.

 **xxxxx**

 **Sam…**

At first, she just tossed and turned, slugging Sam in the shoulder, kicking him in the shin. When the screaming started because she thought she was in the Cage, it took Sam a while to settle her back down, remind her where she was, assure her that Lucifer was still locked away. Through her tears, she thanked him, repeatedly, for being there. Sam cried with her.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

Sam kept talking in his sleep, worried he wouldn't find Dean, worried that Dean was pissed, worried that Dad was angry because he hadn't found Dean yet. It was an icky combo of realities, fiction, and old wounds that Sleeping Sam couldn't keep sorted. His worrying increased _my_ worrying, and it didn't take long for me to realize that nothing I could say would ease his mind. So I ended up holding him tightly, maybe rocking a little, until he understood that he wasn't alone in this.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

Kate woke with a start, gasping for air, flailing like crazy until Sam caught her arms. She stared at him, like she wasn't sure where she was, who _he_ was. Her eyes darted around the room, comprehension dawning at each familiar object. Still, Sam had to rattle off facts and memories, desperate to ground her. It was a hard sell, because _he_ didn't fit in with _where_ they were. But eventually, she nodded, wiped sweaty hair off her face, mumbling an apology before lying back down. She fell back asleep, but Sam's fairly confident he didn't really convince her.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Castiel…**_

The morning sun was up, and Cas knew that Dean was on his way across the yard to check on his sister...who had barely gotten any rest last night. He looked over Kate and Sam, both frowning in their sleep, unaware of his presence.

He checked Kate's physical condition - she was improving, as expected. Several hours outside the wards was already making a difference, slight as it was, even though her stress and anxiety levels were high.

Castiel's current worry was over their lack of rest. They wouldn't be productive in the search for answers if they were sleep deprived on top of frayed nerves.

Cas reached out, lightly touching Sam's temple. Immediately, his entire body relaxed, almost sinking into the mattress with a sigh. After caressing Kate's cheek, he gently pressed two fingers to _her_ temple, putting her in a deep sleep as well. He had a mission today, and knowing she was truly resting, unable to dream, made it easier for him to leave.

He flew downstairs, meeting Dean just outside the garage.

Dean jumped, not expecting Cas to pop into sight. "Whoa! Hey, there. I gotta get used to you doing that. They up yet?"

Cas shook his head. "No, and they won't be up for a while."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? She okay?"

"They're both fine. It was just...they had a difficult time sleeping. I...remedied that."

Dean's mouth opened, then closed, lips pressed together. Cas felt his thoughts. Annoyance at not being able to see or interact with his sister. Gratitude that Cas was watching over her, as promised. Finally, he nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course. I need to return to Heaven. I may have a lead on the location of the prophecies. Crowley is here, and he will watch over everyone."

Head tilting to the side, Dean asked, "When will you be back? I mean, how long is she gonna sleep?"

"She will wake this afternoon. I'll be back by then."

And he left.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Hey - I posted Chapter 9 and 10 at the same time...so if you're just opening this story to Ch 10...back up one!**_

* * *

 _ **Kate…**_

Sometimes you wake up, and you just know the day is gone. I sensed it before my eyes peeled open. At first I was worried. How'd I sleep so late without Sam waking me up? My smart side rolled its eyes and reminded me how exhausted Sam was when we laid down. Not to mention how many times he woke during the night, lost in nightmares.

Still...Dean didn't come get me? That was odd.

I stretched, lazily looking around. There was only one small window, on the far side of the room. Squinting, I saw dark gray puffs floating past, preventing me from gauging the time.

Beside me, Sam yawned, also stretching, a growly noise coming from the back of his throat.

"Wha'timesit?" The murmur was soon followed by another yawn.

I grunted, "No idea. Feels late, though."

Rolling onto my side, I watched Sam twist this way and that, stretching out kinks. When he finished, he lie there, blinking at the ceiling, before turning toward me. "Feels weird…"

I shrugged my eyebrows in agreement, reaching out and swiping hair off his face. "You were up a lot last night."

Blinking languidly, he answered, "You, too."

"Yeah…" I sighed, tucking my hand under my pillow.

"So. How're you doing?" He'd been here over a day and this was the first real conversation we'd had. Opening up to him was so easy. He's the only one here who could understand.

"The trials kept me pretty out of it. I don't think I ever really processed everything. I mean, yeah, there was time before the trials started to really think about all the jumping...but...we were on a mission. Then Kevin and the Hound and the trials and Cas being controlled, and...and the Cage…"

He reached out, tucking hair behind my ear. "And the chapel and the whole _dying_ thing."

We both snorted.

"So I guess...I guess... _yeah_. You?"

Sam sighed. "On my end, I guess I haven't been real good about being...alone."

That's how he left it, and I knew exactly what he meant. But I had to ask. "How's Kevin? And Jody?"

The corner of Sam's mouth quirked up. "The kid's doing well. After...after the third trial, I, uh, had Charlie come to the Bunker to help...look." He swallowed. "She, uh, said to tell you hi." I actually blushed at that. "She and Kevin hit it off...but she and Crowley became really good friends."

"They... _okay_. About that..."

Sam snorted, rolling onto his back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "About that." He sighed. "After the trial I was...a mess. Hell was locked up...there were no demons around and - ."

"So it worked?" I murmured. I couldn't believe I didn't _lead_ with that question.

Sam nodded, glancing at me. "Yeah...yeah it did. But Crowley...he's _technically_ still a demon, but...you cured him. He has all the powers, but none of the evil. None of the essence. So he didn't get pulled into Hell."

Huh. "So he's been with you in the Bunker?"

He looked at me again. "What else was I gonna do with him? I was a mess, but...he was a mess, too. A few hundred years of emotions whammies you in the face, well. That's a tall order for anyone." He paused, lost in a memory. Shaking his head, he continued. "I'm not gonna lie - it was weird with him around at first. But...he's been… _*sigh*_...I'm glad he was there. I dunno. Maybe because he's another connection to Dean. It doesn't matter. He's kinda been...a friend."

My eyebrows rose at that, and now Sam blushed a little. "I know. Shaddup." The smile on his face softened as he looked me over. "How're you feeling?"

When this Sam did the whole eye roving assessing thing, it didn't bother me. Like, at all. Maybe it's because I was so used to it. He and Dean assessed me on an hourly basis for over a year.

I took stock of what my insides were doing, knowing that lying wasn't an option. He knew too much. "Okay...not a hundred percent, but definitely not like I was yesterday. I haven't been outside of the wards for this long since I put them up." His eyebrows rose in a challenge, so I quickly added, "I feel it...my blood's...buzzing and my head's off, but it's not bad. Like...like after the first trial. Promise."

Sam took a long breath through his nose, exhaling slowly. "Okay. I feel like they're gonna skewer me if you don't get better."

I rolled my eyes. "I know. They won't, though. I had such a hard time being back here. They're just...jealous. That's really it. Took a long time to accept that Dad and Bobby and Adam weren't...you know. And Dean..." My voice broke a little. "I kept looking for our Dean...and...yeah."

Sam pulled at a thread in the blanket. "Your Sam's been really quiet. Hasn't said much, won't even look at me."

"Well, c'mon, Sam. It's weird to look at and talk to yourself when yourself is literally standing in front of you."

He huffed through his nose. "No, I get that. It's just...something's brewing there. If we're as similar as you say we are, then I know something's going on. I can tell. Because if it were me, _I'd_ have something going on."

I wasn't about to go into my Sam's relationship with me. This Sam's head would probably explode. So instead, I said, "Sam and I...he's my best friend. He understands what's going on, and right now, he's the voice of reason over there." I rolled onto my back, visually tracing the cracks in the ceiling. "He's the one who kept me going after I got back."

Sam huffed a smile. "What about Dad? I mean…"

I waved him off. I certainly didn't care if he called my dad Dad. "Dad's been mostly patient. He's been better about walking that line between hunter and dad. A lot better, actually. He's been trying to give me space, but he...I don't think he believed what happened. When I first got back, he wouldn't even listen to me when I told him about how your mom hunted in your world and others I was in. Total denial." Sam snorted. "I know, shocker, right? Eventually, he investigated, and yup - she hunted here, too. He's on edge from that, from me, and Jody's trying to be there for him and - "

"Fuck, I forgot about her. They're, like, a thing here, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Bobby's with Ellen and Adam's with Jo."

Sam rolled onto _his_ back. "It's like...cosmic lining up. Perfect pairings...everyone alive...like a fantasy story." His tone was a little bitter.

"I know. But I'm here...the big fat wrinkle."

He shook his head, eyes still on the ceiling. "No. If you were the only thing that made my world yours, then you saved them from being like…" He swallowed hard. "Makes me wonder, sometimes. What one little thing could've changed our whole lives?"

"Not to shit on your parade, but just because we look great right now, doesn't mean things won't go into the crapper. We don't have Azazel's plans yet, and the angels are all up in our business, now."

He glanced at me. "What's going on with Cas?"

 _Blech_. "Michael told us to back off so we don't attract attention from Heaven."

"Ouch."

I nodded back, my voice suddenly hiding in the back of my throat.

He frowned. "But now Cas is more involved…"

I gave him a thumbs up and a sigh, to which he just nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath. "Well. It's better than him being dead from rescuing me in Hell, right? So I'm gonna shut up about it."

We fell silent a moment. Then Sam asked, "Adam seems...he's really attached to you, isn't he?"

I smiled, absently touching the scar on my arm. "Yeah...yeah, he is. He's _my_ little brother." I chuckled a little. "I get Dean's whole _thing_ , now."

At Dean's name, Sam's whole demeanor stiffened a little, the pain of losing him, the worry over getting him back, all coming to the surface. I was going to offer something, _anything_ , to reassure him that we'd do whatever it took to find him, but Sam spoke first. "Dad... _your_ dad...told me we'd find him...that he'd do whatever he could. Bobby, too. It was... _Jesus_ , it was so surreal. I know he isn't my dad. I mean, he looks just like him, but my dad would never...he...he felt my forehead, Kate, like I was ten. Told me to take Advil and get some sleep."

Facing him again, I looked him right in the eyes. "That's not a bad thing."

"No, I know, but…"

"But nothing, Sam. Dad has his faults, but one of them isn't a lack of caring. Lack of tact, lack of foresight, sure. Not a lack of caring. So...maybe let him care for you. Let them all care for you." I caressed his cheek. "You need it."

"You need it, too."

In a dry tone, I said, "I can't get _rid_ of it."

We smiled at each other.

"So. Where do we start?" I asked.

"I believe I know the possible locations of the original prophecy."

Sam and I jumped as Castiel blinked into view. I didn't "hear" him enter at all. The trenchcoat was gone, replaced by a simple long sleeved shirt and jeans.

" _What?_ " He asked in my mind, a little defensively.

I shook my head. " _Nothing, just wondering where the coat is_."

" _I'm...trying something new._ "

Uh-huh.

Sam sat up, the blanket falling to his lap. "Seriously? That's great! Where is it?"

Cas took a measured breath. "I believe it's in one of Lucifer's crypts."

 **xxxxx**

You'd think I was gone, I dunno, two years...lost in an angel curse. The bear hug I got from Dean was almost ridiculous. If it weren't for Sam's wistful expression, I'd have rolled my eyes straight into the back of my head. Dad and Bobby played it much cooler, but I could see it in their eyes. Adam began shoving food at us as soon as he heard I might be somewhat hungry.

The fact that Sam and I both got the same level of concern and care was what kept me from being flippant. Sam really didn't know what to do with the attention, so he settled on swallowing a lot and nodding answers to questions.

I kept my eye on Sammy (Christ, I hate calling him that) after my conversation with Sam earlier. I saw it - averted eyes, kept his distance, body a little tense. Something was brewing, alright. But it wasn't like I could ask him what was what. I couldn't get a second alone, except to go to the bathroom, and I wasn't about to ask Sammy to join me in _there_.

Crowley leaned against the railing on the far side of the porch, sipping something in a mug, lost in thought. I tilted my head at him. He just smiled, raising his glass in a mini salute.

It was almost five in the afternoon, which completely blew me away. Cas admitted to using his powers to help us sleep, pointing out how rested we both felt. Sam looked pretty much back to normal. He was adjusting to everyone being present and alive, the pull of finding Dean pushing him forward.

"Tell us about these crypts," Dad asked, taking a long pull on a bottle of beer.

Cas looked over at Crowley, who set down his mug and took the stage. "Back in the day, Lucifer set up secret little clubhouses to store all of his favorite toys. These crypts are all over the world, their locations only known to his most faithful followers, the Princes of Hell. After creating the first demon, Lilith..." Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair. I laid my hand on his knee to settle him. "...Lucifer created four Princes of Hell, designed to help rule Earth after the Apocalypse." He paused here before murmuring, "Sorry, Sam."

Leg bouncing, Sam shook his head. "It's okay. They need to know."

Nodding, Crowley continued. "Azazel is one of those Princes. The others lost interest in Lucifer and his schemes, but Azazel was...and I suppose _is_...truly devoted. In our world, The Word of God was scribed on to three tablets - Angel, Demon, and Leviathan. Our Lucifer hid the angel tablet in one of his crypts, which held the information on the trials among other things."

That's when I interrupted. "Michael told me that there are tablets here, but they're not the same as those. So maybe the prophecies are on these tablets?"

Everyone turned to Cas, who knit his brows and shrugged. "I am unsure how the prophecies were recorded. I just know they are most likely in one of the crypts. I tried confirming this with Michael, but...he isn't responding to me."

Sam asked, "Cas...do you know which one? They're all over the world." He glanced at Crowley. "The Leviathan tablet was in Iraq, right?"

Crowley nodded.

Bobby asked, "We gotta go to Iraq, now?"

"Goodness, no. It's too dusty this time of year. There are plenty to search right here before considering travel abroad. Is that grilled cheese? Mind if I…?"

Everyone jumped, reaching for weapons that no one was carrying, as a middle-aged man, blond and handsome (kept that tidbit to myself…) popped into view, reaching for the uneaten half of my sandwich, unconcerned about the sudden aggression around him.

It was Sam who sputtered first. "Balthazar?!"

Balthazar paused mid-bite. "Do I know you?"

Sam's mouth opened and closed, as he tried to figure out a way to explain. I, on the other hand, recognized the name. He was the angel who helped Cas rescue me from Hell.

Balthazar glanced around the porch, chewing and nodding. "Mmmmm...this is so good. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had a simple grilled cheese sandwich? Cas?" He spun to face Castiel, who was actually rolling his eyes. "It's been caviar and fresh shellfish for decades." He polished off the sandwich in three bites, wiped his hands on a napkin he snagged from under my plate, and held up a finger as he finished swallowing. "Ah. Thank you. Now. I asked, do I know you?" He jauntily pointed at Sam. "And _you…_ " He turned to me. "Must be Kate."

Still no one moved.

Cas sighed a sigh that was a mixture of _I Can't Believe I Put Up With Your Bullshit_ and _Oh, Balthazar!_. "This is Balthazar. He's an angel."

"Aaaaaaand your best friend. You always leave that part out, Cassie."

"Please don't call me Cassie."

It sounded so much like Sam asking Dean to stop using Sammy that I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it.

Balthazar turned back to me, a wide grin on his face as he realized he had captured an audience. I smiled back at him. "Thank you for helping get me out of Hell."

He shrugged nonchalantly. " 'Twasn't a bother."

I rose an eyebrow at him. "I know that's not true. Michael told me it took a lot out of you. And...really. Thank you."

Balthazar cocked his head, studying me. "It's not everyday Castiel asks for a favor. When he does, I tend to listen." He again turned back to Sam. "Now, _you…_ "

Castiel interrupted. "He knew you in that reality."

More eyebrows raised. "Really. How interesting." Thankfully, he didn't ask for more. I knew a little of what had befallen Balthazar, and from the look on Sam's face, he really didn't want to get into it.

We all noticed that Crowley had disappeared at some point, most likely to stay off celestial or demonic radar.

"So you know the location of Lucifer's Crypts?" Dad asked, looking mostly relaxed but under the surface, I could feel his tension at having so many not-humans on his fucking porch. "And why would they be there?"

Balthazar shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Lucie collected things. He liked 'borrowing' Father's stuff and not returning it. We aren't even sure they're there. It was a rumor of a rumor. But it's something. Unfortunately, no, I don't know the locations. I just know there are some in the continental United States, and why not start there before running off all over the world, hmm?"

"Did you find anything about the prophecies?" Cas asked.

That's when Balthazar got serious. "No new prophecies have been recorded, which is odd, because there should have been a prophet out there recording them. But that assumes that prophecies need to exist. No one seems to know what's going on, and no one seems concerned. The focus is on the Apocalypse, which I'm starting to think isn't even based on those prophecies. But...it could be. It's just hard to say. Michael isn't answering anyone, Gabriel is still...doing whatever Gabriel does, and Raphael is, well. Raphael."

No one besides Cas knew that that meant, except Sam, who's face darkened at the angel's name.

Balthazar continued, "The twist, is that the prophet line has faltered, and as far as I know, there isn't one out there."

"Waitasec," Sam interjected. "I thought all the prophets' names were sort of...wired into you. Like...forever. And if one dies, another takes its place. So don't you know who to find?"

"That is true, Sam," Cas answered. "However when the prophecies altered…" He paused there, and I felt heat inching its way up my neck. "Prophet activity sort of…"

"Fizzled," Balthazar finished for him. "Fizzled and stopped. A prophet hasn't been identified for a while, and the list of names has proven now obsolete, which is...odd, but that's what happened. Even though prophets aren't activated, we always knew who they could be. But now…" He shrugged again. "Nada."

Cas sighed. "I didn't realize one hadn't been identified, though."

Bobby scratched his head. "Okay...so we need to find the original prophecies. Try to suss out what the plan used to be, see if Metatron is aiming for it, and if there's any info on Sammy."

"Ah, yes. The boy with demon blood." Sammy paled a little, and Dean's protectiveness ratcheted up about ten levels. "I don't know whether the prophecies will help with that. But they might. _Well_. I have a date with triplets in France. Call if you need me, Cassie." He blinked out of sight.

"That is so...unnerving," Dad muttered, his hand waving around. "They just...pop in and out and-"

"It _is_ unnerving." Everyone jumped as Crowley popped back onto the porch. Dad put his head in his hands. "But there really isn't another way. I re _fuse_ to walk around."

"You heard?" Sam asked.

Crowley nodded. "Everything. The sandwich was delightful and there are no prophets. However, I have an idea. We can try the locations of two crypts from our world, and see if crypts exist here, too."

Sam shared a look with me. I knew what he was thinking about. Visiting the crypt in Missouri...what started out as a weird hunt that involved angels, turned out to reveal Cas under Naomi's control, and the lies he led me to believe about my brothers. "Where's the other one, besides Missouri?" he asked, eyes locked on mine.

"Utah."

"You went to one?" Dean asked, noting the looks Sam and I shared.

Sam sat back in his chair, breaking my gaze and bowing his head. I decided to answer this one. "I didn't go in, Sam didn't either. Dean did. It was…" I glanced at Cas. "...complicated."

"In the end, we found the Angel tablet in that crypt. And...lost someone." We both stole glances at Crowley, whose face remained impassive, but his eyes...shone with guilt.

I cleared my throat. "Anyway, it's worth a shot, right? I mean, it's a lead where there are no leads, so…"

"...So who goes where?" Dean asked, looking around, clearly already having an idea of who should go with whom.

There was silence for a moment, no one really wanting to offer an opinion that would get shot down by someone. Cas broke it. "I think it would be wise for Crowley and I to each accompany a group. That way each group has some extra...abilities...available to them."

"Good idea," Crowley murmured. "I think it'd be best if I went to the crypt in Utah, since…" He paused, actually at a loss for words on how to finish that sentence. Since he killed Meg? Since he caused the drama outside that Missouri crypt? I understood why he didn't want to go back there.

"Since Sam and I already know the location of the other one," I offered. His head dipped in thanks.

Again, silence.

Rolling his eyes, Dad opened his mouth to speak just as Sam blurted, "I'll go with Crowley." Dad snapped his mouth shut. Sam looked to me. "Can you...can you go back to Missouri?" His eyes said more than his mouth...was I okay splitting up, was I okay going back there, did I feel up to even traveling.

I knew how to alleviate his worry. "Duh!"

Sam snorted, shaking his head.

Bobby nodded. "I'll stay here, hold down the fort with Adam. John, why don't you go with Sam and Crowley. Let the boys go with Kate and Cas."

Dad, who'd been eyeballing us, flickered his gaze at Bobby. "Sounds good. Where in Missouri are you headed?"

"Lincoln Springs," came from Sam and I at the same time.

Dad pulled at his chin. "Okay...why don't we head to the Roadhouse first. Caleb sent over some stuff I ordered, and we can check in with Ellen. See if anything's buzzing before splitting up."

"Well. If you're heading there first...maybe...Adam and I'll join you." I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Bobby turned beet red. "What?" he demanded.

Dad patted him on the shoulder. "If you don't, she'll murder you."

"No shit," Bobby muttered. "Speakin' of which, you should probably not get murdered yourself." He rose and stretched. "Good talk, everyone. Now who's hungry?"

Bobby shuffled back into the house with Adam. Dad pulled out his phone, making a _blech_ face.

"Just call her, Dad." Dean chuckled. "Jody'll be pissed if you don't."

At Jody's name, Crowley's eyes widened. He looked at me, and I shrugged one shoulder, confirming his suspicions. He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

What could he say? Jody was with Dad over here.

Still, the longing on his face was evident, and I found myself feeling sorry for him. I knew how it felt to miss someone across worlds.

A feather brushed my cheek, and I smiled.

Dad sent what appeared to be a text, then sighed. "Let's look at some maps and plan out where we're going." He waved for Sam to follow, then paused as he considered the demon. With another sigh, he stepped into the house. A scraping sound was heard, and Dad reappeared, hooking a finger at Crowley. "Come on...we need you to help with the mapping." Sensing Crowley's hesitation, he explained. "I...broke the main trap. You can come in."

He disappeared back into the house. Crowley gave us an _Oooooh!_ Look, complete with eyebrow waggling before following, Sam on his heels, booping my nose as he passed.

And then it was just Cas, me, Dean and Sammy on the porch.

Sammy looked at me. "So can we go back to calling me 'Sam' on this trip?"

"For the love of God, _yes_."

 **xxxxx**

The next few hours were spent pouring over maps and making a list of supplies. Since we were leaving first thing in the morning, Dean tinkered with the Impala downstairs in the garage, making sure she was ready. Sammy stayed upstairs with me.

"So...you _were_ at this crypt, but _not_ at this crypt?"

Sighing, I leaned back against the wall, mindful of the map spread out on the bed between us. "Yeah." I explained what happened, including Castiel's deception, making me think Sam and Dean didn't want me around. "I wasn't feeling so hot after the first trial...coupled with thinking they didn't want me around...I spent that night at the motel, waiting for them to return."

He did a good job keeping his expression bland. "Why didn't they want you around?"

I sat on the bed, sighing, remembering that whole mess. "They did," I said softly. "Cas was… under the control of another angel. He was ordered to make me feel distant from them. It's a long story and it doesn't matter."

His head nod told me he understood...I didn't want to talk about it.

"Anyway, it was a crazy night. Crowley was involved, and we ended up leaving in a hurry." I didn't think it was important to mention Meg since her...relationship with Sam was a bitch to explain. Hopefully, Sammy wouldn't -

"So who was the person you lost that night?"

 _Fuck_.

Sammy watched closely, waiting for me to open up about our loss. Except it _wasn't_ our loss. It was a _complicated_ "loss" of someone who knew Sam better than anyone, because she inhabited his body for a while. How could I explain that mixture of relief and mourning without freaking Sammy...because I had no idea if this "Meg" existed here. If she did, were her eyes on Sammy?

Yeah...tread carefully.

I was saying that a lot, lately.

"Kate?"

"She was a demon. I never met her. She was kind of like Azazel's daughter. Their John had run-ins with her, as did Sam."

As expected, Sammy's face scrunched up. "I don't see how that's a loss."

"I know. It's complicated."

"There's a lot of that over there."

I snorted. "You have no idea. I guess the best way to put it is that...after a while, lines that were clear became blurry. Situations dictated new rules, and we just...haven't had those situations pop up yet. I don't know if that demon even exists over here."

Sammy just nodded, accepting my answer, giant holes of missing information included, with no further questioning. If anyone understood complicated, it was him.

In any reality.

He watched me shove some things in a bag for a bit. I knew there were more questions in there, even if not about Meg.

"So...you're okay with...you know...not being with him on this trip?"

And there it was.

I studied him before answering. "Of course...why wouldn't I be? I'm with you." I plastered a sweet smile on my face, complete with batted eyelashes.

Sammy rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Deflection, deflection, _deflection_. "I'm more curious about him traveling with Dad than anything. Although...Sam's kinda blown away by him." At Sammy's raised eyebrows, I explained. "From what I know, his John was in Marine mode all the time. He loved them, and he tried the best he could, but...when Sam left for Stanford, he had no contact from Dean or Dad the whole time."

"Oh…"

"Yeah. In the end, his dad made the best decisions he could make, given what he had to work with. He didn't have Bobby. He didn't have Jo and Ellen."

"He didn't have you," Sammy murmured, poking me in the side.

"Yeah." I wasn't sure what else to say, so I left it there.

 **xxxxx**

It was almost eleven before Sam returned to our room. He looked tired, but vibrant. The fact that we had a plan, something to do, somewhere to go, bolstered him from deep within. It was good to see.

"Hey…" Winchester standard greeting. "How're you doing?"

"Good! All packed...ready to go." I made a grand sweeping gesture over the duffel bag politely sitting on the table.

Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair as he spun around looking for his own bags.

"On the bed, Sam."

Spying them, his mouth formed an _Ahhh_ shape. Hesitating only a moment, he motioned me over. I dutifully sat on the bed. "I feel like I'm waiting for you to dole out presents."

He chuckled, opening one up. "I kinda am. I, uh, brought some of your things. From your room. I left some stuff in case…" He trailed off, eyes flickering to me before refocusing on the contents of the bag. "...I dunno. In case you ever come back, I guess. I dunno. Anyway…"

Out of the bag came the iPad that helped keep me sane when things were bleak. "I made sure the music you like is on it. I have no idea what's what with music over here, or if there are even iPads. Anyway, I figured...I'd just...grab a bunch of stuff."

Next came one of those frames that has multiple pictures in it. There were only a few, but they whalloped me in the heart. "Oh, Sam…" I breathed. One was a shot of me and Kevin, making faces. Another was of me and Dean in the kitchen. Dean was angrily pointing at a cookbook and I was rolling my eyes. Sam must've been hiding when he took it. The third had me and Sam, pouring over a book.

The last one...I remembered being taken. It was before the trials started. Sam, Dean and I posed on the Impala in the garage. Dean was barking photography orders at Kevin...who was grumpy about being bossed around. But in the picture, we were all smiling, arms around each other, just... _there_.

Tears just rolled down my cheeks at the sight of Dean, and that whole other life I had. My fingers ghosted over his face. I felt a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes and set the frame aside. "Sorry…" But when I looked up at him, Sam was wiping away tears of his own.

He handed me a copy. "I had an extra one made so you could...I dunno...carry it around, I guess." Clearing his throat, he dug back into the bag. "I also brought that sweatshirt of mine that you kept stealing - "

"Borrowing," I corrected.

" _Stealing_ ," he counter-corrected, tossing the thick bundle at my head. "And...this." He pulled out a Glock, my first gun in his world. "Thought you'd like it." I held it lovingly, remembering outshooting Dean on the range in the basement. "And! It comes with witch killing bullets and angel blade bullets."

I brought up my head sharply. "Get the fuck out of here. How'd you get those?"

Sam grinned. "Crowley. Remember he used them on Cas? Well, he knew how to make them, and where to find them. With all the demons gone, the earthbound gateways to Hell are abandoned, so...we raided a bunch."

"Nice," I whistled. "Dad'll go nuts when he sees this."

Huffing, Sam zipped up the bag and set it on the floor. "Already told him. He's super excited. I guess Caleb got him a few new guns and a crossbow that we're picking up from the Roadhouse." His eyes got wistful as he thought of his old friend.

"Tired?" I asked him.

Sam shook his head. "Not really. I'm...ready to get going." He nudged the other bags. "I need some clothes, though. I mostly brought weapons and ingredients for spells and stuff. John said we could stop somewhere on the way." He paused, blinking at me. "Feels weird to call him John."

"You can always call him Dad."

The look on his face told me that wasn't really an option.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Did I make the right call by splitting us up?"

I shifted my weight on the bed, tucking one leg under me. "I think that if you suggested we stay together away from Dean, his brain would've melted."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I think so, too. Still...going back to Missouri…"

"Sam. I was barely in Missouri last time. My memories of that day are centered on other things. I didn't do much to help. But, if the town's somewhat the same, I know what's where, and I know the location of the warehouse. It's at least a start. Going to Utah is better for you. And Crowley."

"I know. And...I feel better knowing you're with...Dean...and...me. Fuck, that's messed up. I mean, if you were with other hunters, not...like, anyone other than Bobby or - "

I patted his knee. "I know what you mean. I'm with my family... _our_ family. It'll be fine."

Sam blew out a breath. "Yeah."

"You do need our phone numbers, though."

Sam patted his pocket. "Already got 'em. Adam added everyone to my phone. After I showed him how."

A knock sounded at the door, and Cas poked his head inside. "Hello? Is this better than popping in and out?"

"Jesus, I forgot how he was," Sam muttered under his breath.

I bit my tongue so I wouldn't laugh, or more importantly, think about laughing. "Yeah, Cas, come on in," I called out, casually punching Sam's leg when Cas wasn't looking.

"I am trying to be more...aware of how my presence affects you," he said.

Then he just stood there.

"Uh, did you need something, Cas?" Sam asked, also biting his tongue to stop laughing.

"Yes. I know you...we...are leaving in the morning. I thought perhaps...you would want to sleep…"

Sam and I exchanged looks. "Uh, that's usually the plan, yes." I wasn't sure what he was getting at. He was acting weird.

Castiel's expression turned sheepish. "Since I had you sleep so much today, I thought you would have difficulty sleeping now. I am here to offer my...you know. Assistance." He actually wiggled his fingers at us.

That's when I lost the battle, and laughed. Sam joined me. "Sorry...I'm sorry, Cas. The finger thing was just...okay. Uhm. I think it's probably a good idea...Sam?"

"Normally, I'd stay away from, you know." He wiggled his fingers back at Cas. "But I think...yeah. It'd be really bad if we're exhausted tomorrow."

Cas looked pleased. "Alright." Before we could move, or get ready, or maybe _say_ something, he tapped our foreheads, and everything went black.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Sam…**_

He should've been irritated that Cas just knocked him out, without warning or preparation. But he wasn't.

It was _Cas_.

Sam was itching to get going. Luckily, all his shit was still in duffel bags. He hadn't _un_ packed except for the items he gave to Kate, so there wasn't a need _to_ pack. Although she did shove a toothbrush at him with a comment about not tasting like ass.

Everyone was buzzing, making sure the cars were loaded with whatever they could possibly need. Even though they were pit-stopping at The Roadhouse first, just leaving Bobby's brought on that jitter you get when going on a hunt.

Sam wasn't sure how John's truck was stocked, so he brought the bag filled with ingredients for various spells and incantations. He had no idea what they'd need, if anything, but he got so used to the Impala holding so much crap that leaving it behind felt wrong.

If he remembered correctly, at this point, they were not so bad at exorcisms, but that was about it. Spells hadn't become a resume bullet point yet, so for sure, Sam was the only one with that expertise.

Just before he and Kate left the apartment, he found himself patting down pockets on his jacket and pants. "You have the angel blade?"

"Yep."

"And that sling so you can carry it on your back and not slice your ass open?"

She rolled her eyes. " _Yes._ "

"And we have cell phone numbers and email addresses. What about the Glock and the - "

" _Yes_ _ **,**_ Sam. I have clean underwear and tampons, too. Jesus Christ." She paused, taking a better look at him. Sam squirmed a little under her gaze. He'd been without her and Dean for so long, he wasn't used to someone really examining him. Bottling up one's emotions worked really well when you weren't with people who knew your tells. "You anxious to get on the road, or nervous about seeing Ellen and Jo?" She asked in a soft voice, head tilted.

Sam sighed, sitting on the bed. "Yes? I mean...I've waited months to really start looking. I'm _ready_. As for Ellen and Jo…" He blew out a breath. "Last time I saw them…" Memories of the store exploding brought a lump to his throat. He shook his head. That was _there_. This was _here_. _Get it together._ "It's hard. Everyone's dead. Seeing them alive is just...it's a lot."

Kate sat next to him, her hand in his. "I know. I think this is harder than all my jumping, really. I mean, I never knew who would be where, or what the circumstances were...but I feel like you're just getting slammed in the face every time you turn around." She squeezed. "I'm sorry."

Sam huffed, poking her on the forehead. "Don't be. At least they're alive here, and I get to see them. If they're also similar to my Ellen and Jo, well...then that's even better. I can't change what's happened in my world, but getting to see people again...once I'm over the shock...it's...nice. Like a weird closure."

She smiled at him, tugging on his jacket. "Come on. Let's get down there. I'm sure Dad's ready to leave."

Sam wasn't tracking the various ways he referred to her John Winchester. If he was considered Kate's brother then by goofball logic, this John kinda was...his dad. Besides, when Sam wasn't over thinking it, he responded to that voice automatically. It _was_ Dad.

He wasn't ready to share that revelation with her actual brothers, though…

Even though they knew John was ready to get moving, they _still_ took their time crossing the yard. He kept it to himself, but Sam was really _not_ okay with letting Kate out of his sight. _He just got her back._ And _yes_ , he _understood_ that she was with Dean. Not his, but a damn good clone. And a Sam. And a Cas.

But it wasn't _him_.

There was no way he'd cause a scene by attempting to separate her from her actual brothers. But Sam wasn't lying when he admitted that right now, she was really all he had. Kevin and Charlie...even Jody and Crowley...were great and all. But they weren't...they didn't _know_...it just wasn't the same.

Kate, sensing his pensiveness, knocked into him with her shoulder as they walked. "I'll text you."

Sam chuffed through his nose, hefting the backpack further onto his shoulder. "Am I that obvious?"

She shrugged. "To me, yeah. Probably because I'm just as insecure."

He stole a glance at her. She kept walking, eyes forward, lips pressed together. He sighed. "Just, yeah. Stay in touch. Let me know everything that happens."

The corner of her mouth turned up. "I'm sure we'll be giving you guys reports hourly." Her expression turned serious. "I want to hear from you, too. If Dad gets...weird, or...Crowley gets on his nerves…"

Sam barked out a laugh. "Normally, me and Dad on a trip together is not a good idea." He blinked at how casually _Dad_ rolled off his tongue.

Kate again shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno, Sam. You're older now...you've had a lot of time to think about things with Dad. My Sam's a lot better with him than he used to be, and vice versa. I don't think you and he will butt heads on this. He knows you have the upper hand in knowledge and skill, and he's glad you were there for me." She squinted up at him. "It'll be fine. Trust him."

He nodded back. "Yeah..."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

I leaned against the Impala, (mostly) patiently waiting for everyone to finish getting their shit together. Admittedly, it was easier for Sam and I to get ready. All our crap was already in bags. Still. You'd think we never left on a hunt before.

The bigger time-stall was Jody's unplanned arrival, wanting to see Dad before he left. I suspected she wanted a peek at the Sam From Beyond, but I wasn't about to say anything. Dad disappeared with her for a little bit, while everyone else finished breakfast and checking over supplies for the millionth time. They weren't gone long enough for Dean to crack sex jokes, but it was long enough for Dad to return blushing, rubbing the back of his neck and looking everywhere but at us.

It was awesome.

Sam "met" her, smiling and shaking her hand, pointedly _not_ mentioning how _his_ Jody was dating a former demon who tried to kill her several months prior.

Not exactly something you lead with in the small talk department.

Crowley stayed away, but I was fairly certain he watched from...wherever he was. It was decided that Cas and Crowley would meet us there, rather than drive in vehicles. In both cases, it was probably for the best. I wouldn't mind Cas riding with us, but being that close for that long might draw attention from Heaven.

I didn't want to _think_ about Dad and a demon packed together in the truck for a few hours.

Jody was an easier person for Sam to "meet". She was still alive by him, so seeing simply a younger version wasn't that big a deal. That was good, because I had a feeling seeing The Roadhouse not burned to the ground was gonna be emotional. I had a shitty time staring at the ruins in his world...glad Ellen and Jo weren't buried there, but still mourning the loss of this place that had become a gathering spot outside of Bobby's.

Adam trotted over, backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey...I'm gonna ride with you guys instead of Bobby. That okay?"

Dean and Sammy shrugged, I tilted my head at him. "Sure...something wrong? Did Bobby eat something sour last night?"

Dean snickered. Adam huffed, his cheeks turning red. "No, he's fine. I just...thought I'd...you know…" He glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who stood chatting with Jody, Dad, and Bobby.

 _Oh_.

He wanted to sit with me for a little while. Because he was jealous.

Christ, he was adorable.

"Of course you can ride with us. Keep me company in the back seat." I smiled, trying to ease his mind about asking.

His face lit up. "Cool. Okay. I'll let Bobby know." He dropped the backpack to the ground, then jogged back to Bobby.

"That kid would follow you around all day if you let him," Dean muttered. The words sounded sharp, but there was no bite whatsoever.

"Mmm…" I hummed back, deciding it wasn't worth reminding him that he and Sam were attached in a way Adam and I could never rival.

Finally, Bobby got in his car. Dad and Sam climbed into his truck, and the four of us Winchester "kids" got into the Impala.

Time to go.

 **xxxxx**

The ride was devoid of conversation, mostly because Dean had music pounding through the speakers. Adam stared out the window for the most part, but every once in a while, his leg would bump against mine, or he'd stretch and knock into me.

Occasional physical contact, needing to know I was there.

Trying to be a good sister and acknowledging his worry, I finally kicked him back hard enough to warrant a yelp. I responded with an innocent apology. He rolled his eyes, sighed, then slid across the seat to just be a little closer.

That was much easier than being smacked now and then.

When we got to The Roadhouse, Adam immediately searched out Jo. Bobby tried to look more casual, but he definitely moved with a little more zip as he anticipated Ellen's appearance. I exited the Impala slowly, eyes rooted on the building. I drank in the site, the old bar standing upright, very much not a splotch on charred asphalt.

"You okay?" Dean asked, squinting at me over the roof of the car.

I nodded, wetting my lips. "Yeah."

"What is it?" Sam asked quietly.

Jutting my chin at the building, I sighed. "It's just nice to see it again."

I caught them sharing a look, and chose to ignore it, instead watching Sam get out of Dad's truck. He was unable to take his eyes off the building. I walked to his side, and we gazed together.

"It looks exactly the same," he murmured wistfully. "It's so...uncanny."

Everyone headed inside, tossing a questioning look our way, but sensing that we needed a minute. Everything we did seemed to have a complicated story attached, and they were learning to just...give us a second to process.

I smiled. "I haven't been here since I got back. My last memory of this place is a burnt patch on the ground, and piles of...well. You know."

Sam huffed through his nose. "Yeah. I know. I remember it still smoking."

"Why are you standing out here? Get your asses inside before it starts raining."

Sam positively froze at Ellen's voice, barking across the lot.

"She's the same, I take it?" I asked.

He just nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Come on," I said. "We better do as she says."

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Sam…**_

As Sam approached the front door of the bar, all he could do was stare at Ellen. Standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side. She watched _him_ watching _her_. When Sam stood in front of her, he had no words...no words to say to this woman who gave up her life for him. This woman who died because of Meg.

When Jo came outside, not bleeding from gash wounds, not being manhandled by a possessed Sam, but young and pretty and bouncing over to Kate...Sam kinda lost it. A few tears escaped, snaking their way down his cheeks, hastily wiped away on his sleeve. He tried to hide them behind a quick smile and a warm greeting, but his voice stuck in the back of his throat.

They were the last straw for Sam...important people who died too soon and once again, for Sam and Dean. For the world too, yeah. But in a micro-view? For Sam and Dean. That responsibility clenched his airways.

Jo engulfed Kate in a monstrous hug, talking about spending more time together or something. Kate gave Ellen one of those _hellos_ you use when you haven't seen someone in eons. Which, for her, two years was an eon. Ellen gave her a big hug, clucking over her scars. Their focus was on each other, but Sam knew, he was still a point of attention.

Unsure how to respond, he turned to Kate, silently begging for help.

She was way ahead of him.

Kate slid her hand into his, squeezing gently. "Ellen, Jo, this is my other Sam Winchester."

Jo grinned. "Jesus, Sam's gonna get even taller? Dean's gotta be shitting his pants."

Sam choke laughed at that.

Ellen looked up at him, smiling gently. "Hey, Sam. Nice to meet you. I'm thinking you know me and my daughter already, huh?"

"Uh…" Sam cleared his throat, forcing his voice to work. "Yes...in a way. You are very...much like the Ellen and Jo I knew." He winced at the past tense, but Ellen took it in stride.

Winking, she said, "The Lord knew a good thing when he made it. Come on in. Lunch is ready."

 **xxxxx**

Jo sidled up to Adam immediately, crooning and chattering and making Dean roll his eyes while Adam gazed at her adoringly. Sam wondered if his Jo would've been that way with Dean, if Dean viewed her as a potential love interest as opposed to a little sister. Although Sam suspects that Ellen had an influence in Dean's ultimate categorization of the girl.

More amusing was watching Bobby interact with Ellen. She barked orders here and there, making sure everyone was taken care of. Bobby hopped to it, or sassed right back. Every look was filled with affection, both enjoying that the hole left by their dying spouses was now partly filled back up. When they thought no one was looking, they'd steal a kiss or a shoulder squeeze.

Seeing Bobby genuinely happy, in his own right, warmed Sam to the core. The old hunter deserved happiness...could've _had_ happiness, if Dick Roman hadn't pulled the trigger.

He sat with Kate at the bar, observing, mostly. He didn't particularly trust his voice, and really, Sam didn't need to say anything. It was enough to see and hear the people he loved being happy, despite the shitstorm of evil swirling around them.

Kate stayed at his side, whispering observations, listening to Sam's comments, just being there for him. He didn't miss the looks Sammy tossed their way, but Kate was driving this bus and right then, he desperately needed a driver.

Still. "You, uh, don't have to babysit me, you know."

She tossed him a _Yeah, right_ look.

"I mean, if you want to go - "

"Go what, Sam? Mingle with people? No thanks. I didn't really mingle before, anyway, so no one thinks I'm doing anything out of the ordinary."

They were silent for a while.

Sam sighed into his beer. "I gotta get used to this."

She snorted into hers. "Yeah, I kept telling myself that, too."

"I don't know how you did it," Sam said, taking a long swig. The twist of drinking around lunch without Dean around made his stomach roll. Catching sight of Kate's Dean, next to John, actually helped.

Kate shrugged. "Honestly? Before landing with you, I was jumping all the time. I never really got used to any reality I was dumped in. _After_ landing with you? Figuring out that I was stranded there?" She shrugged again. "What other choice did I have? But okay, I guess the trials helped." Sam raised an eyebrow. "Think about it. I was so fucking out of it, I couldn't always remember that you weren't who I thought you were...you know?"

Sam pressed his lips together, tilting his head from side to side. "Honestly?" She waved her beer with a flourish, telling him to _go on_. "I had trouble remembering that you weren't always there, too. Our pasts are so similar, and you know us. And you were with us for two years. Besides, you did say you'd grow on us like a fungus." They clinked bottles.

Sam sighed. "It does help to see everyone...happy." He blinked. "Or at least happier."

Together, they surveyed the room. She sighed with him. "Yeah...it does."

"Hey there, Caleb!" John's voice rang out. Warm greetings from all parts of the bar soon followed, and Sam's throat closed once again.

Kate nudged him, her eyes questioning. _What is it?_

Which to Sam, translated into: _Oh yeah, he's dead too, right? Who killed_ _ **him**_ _?_

Sam cut to the chase. "Meg killed him, too."

"Jesus," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. Caleb caught her eye and waved, eyes darting to Sam before refocusing on John. "She's…"

"Complicated," Sam finished.

"I don't know if she exists here." Kate started peeling the label off her bottle. "I'm not sure if I should dig to find out, or just wait, or…?"

"If she's here, and has the same relationship with Azazel, you'll find out. If he's got his eye on your Sam, he will need help to get to him. You, Dean, John...all barriers." Sam paused, bottle poised on his lips. "They'll want to remove them."

Kate's eyes went flat. "Let her try."

Sam didn't respond.

Caleb left them alone, thankfully. Ellen checked in a couple times, and sure, each time got easier. Sam's throat eased open, his voice trembled less, his heart stopped racing.

Despite Kate's assurances, Sam felt guilty - she didn't visit with anyone. He knew others wanted to see her...check on her...maybe hear all about...him. But if he was honest, he was glad she remained glued to his side. Still felt guilty, though.

He was about to tell her that she should go sit with Jo when she sighed. "I don't want to leave you, but I wish Dean would finish flirting so we could get on the road. Too many people here wanting to...get the scoop on what happened to me."

Sam considered this. "Do people know what happened?"

She shook her head. "No, but they can see the scars. And they don't know who you are beyond what we're tellin' people."

Their story was that Sam was a distant cousin, who, funny enough, looks like an older version of Sammy. _The resemblance was simply uncanny._

Sam glanced at her. "I forget about the scars...I guess I got used to them."

"Me too."

"They still bothering you?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes."

Frowning, Sam was about to ask for more details when a hand settled on his shoulder, making him jump.

John chuckled. "Sorry...didn't mean to startle you. Kate...can I talk with you a quick minute? We're about ready to head out." He squeezed Sam's shoulder before heading toward a corner booth.

At Sam's raised eyebrows, Kate shrugged, draining the last of her beer. "No clue. Should be interesting, though." She winked, then followed her father to the table.

 **xxxxx**

 _ **Kate…**_

I slid into the booth, opposite Dad, feeling both anxious and annoyed. I wanted to savor my last minutes with Sam before parting ways. It wasn't that we expected anything bad to happen, but we were Winchesters, and let's face it, bad things happen to us.

I tried to control my bouncing leg, as Dad squirmed a little uncomfortably. I was about to ask him what was on his mind, when he blurted out, "I'll watch over him."

Blinking back, I frowned. "Uh, what?"

He continued, one hand dragging down his face. "I mean...I know you're probably, uh, nervous about leaving him. I just wanted you to know that I'll watch over him...as if he were our Sam. I promise." Dad ended with a lame shoulder shrug, but it was his eyes that really set the mood.

Serious, earnest, sincere.

I really wasn't sure how to respond. I half expected a speech about how maybe I shouldn't even go on this trip, or to, I dunno, be careful. Do as Dean and Sammy said. Shit like that.

Adopting Sam into the family wasn't even on my radar. I'd spent two years battling guilt over loving the brothers I lived with, knowing that I left brothers behind. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it wasn't my fault. I totally get that. But it still felt like I was giving up on my "old" family...replacing them with what (or who) was currently in front of my face.

Coming home? It was wonderful and shitty wrapped together. Now, I had guilt for being home and not there, with them. I guess I'd been waiting for my actual family to be pissed at me for said replacement and at them for...being the replacers.

Jesus, that sounded stupid.

"Thanks, Dad. It means a lot." I tried to return a look that was serious, earnest, and sincere. Because that's how I felt. All my pent up angst was for nothing. Dad was willing to merge the two realities together, allowing me the freedom to love both equally, without guilt.

It was like a weight lifted off my chest.

Dad sighed. "Look, I haven't been as...supportive as I should've been since you...got back. I guess I didn't believe, or want to believe really, that everything you said happened...happened. But seeing that Sam? Right here, in front of me, with some of the same memories of his childhood that we have for Sammy…? It's...it's fucking bizarre. And...slammed home the point."

At this point, I actually stole a quick look around. Did I jump into another reality?

No words. I had No. Words.

Dad's eyes focused on his clasped hands, resting on the table. His voice dropped. "I also think...maybe...you're worried because Sam can help us with Sammy, and maybe I'll just focus on that, and not on finding Dean. But...I want both, Kate. Because if Sam is this close to Sammy, that means Dean…" Dad paused to swallow hard and sigh. "I want both."

Admittedly, it took a few moments to process everything he said. It was so Not-Dad, yet when I really thought about it, it actually _was_ Dad...because _my_ dad was still evolving...not a drunk, no longer singularly driven, not stuck living in the past.

Compared to Sam's John Winchester, I was lucky.

Reaching out, I covered his hands with mine as I reflected on _everything_. I decided to keep it simple. "I love you."

His eyes met mine, and he squeezed me back. "I love you, too."

We sat a minute before I asked, "So...how do you feel about having a demon in the back seat?" Whether Crowley actually rode in the backseat was irrelevant. He was on their team.

Dad made a face and leaned back against the booth. Shaking his head, he made a noise that was a cross between a laugh and a snort. "I dunno, Kate. If you told me a couple days ago that I'd be working with a demon, I'd have laughed you out of the house." I wasn't sure that laughing was what he'd do, but whatever. _He_ was sharing, not me. "But last night...working with him in the house...he was... _fuck_. He was actually...kinda...I mean...I _liked_ him. He's smart...has a lot of knowledge we could use. He showed us the witch killing bullets and the melted angel blade bullets. He knows his whiskey, and he's...fuckin'... _nice_."

Okay... _not_ telling him that Crowley almost killed Jody, not to mention _actually_ killing so many people, when he was a real demon. Not to really mention that Crowley and Jody are... _yeah_. Some things are better left unsaid.

"I don't really know him. My memories are a little...skewed." There. Skewed worked. "But Sam says he's all in."

Dad nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah." He looked me in the eyes. "You cured a demon, Kate. I never knew that was possible. But you did it. You did...you did all of it. I'm so proud of you."

I bit my lip as tears started to gather. "If you make me cry, it'll ruin all my road trip makeup."

Dad rolled his eyes and bonked me on the head.

 **xxxxx**

As we said goodbye, a weird tension hung thick. Everyone was processing that _Dad_ was riding in a vehicle with a _demon_ and his _son/not son_ , while no one was possessed or under the influence of witchcraft.

Crowley couldn't get into The Roadhouse, let alone most of the parking lot, due to wards and sigils. Seeing him stand on the fringe, alone, reminded me of how I felt jumping in and out of all those realities. I decided to join him, for company, and maybe...maybe to warn him that despite liking him, Dad was...well...still _Dad_.

"Despite all the stress, he really feels at ease, here," Crowley commented as we watched Sam hug Ellen.

"Yeah?" I asked. When he nodded, I sighed. "I hope so. I mean, to be in this situation and not feel at least a little comfortable…" I sighed again. "I just know how hard this is."

Crowley rocked back on his heels. "You do, and your presence has helped him immeasurably."

We stood in silence a moment.

"So," I began. "My dad…"

"Ah yes, the infamous John Winchester. I must say, that I much prefer this version than the legend from our world. Pretty sure _that_ John would've killed me on sight."

I chuckled. "Yeah...I think so, too. Still. Look...Dad's trying, Crowley. He really is. I just...Dad can adapt and move on in almost anything except demons. You pretty much won him over, but I dunno. If he...I mean…" I sighed in frustration at my inability to articulate this potential problem.

Crowley chuckled. "It's okay, Natasha. I understand what you're trying to say. Surprisingly, I have quite a bit of patience. I have a knack for waiting things out." He winked at me. "Don't worry. I'll keep the Demon Knife away from him."

I blew out a laugh, tracing a pattern in the gravel with my shoe. "Yeah, okay. Sam'll be with you, too. So...yeah. It'll be fine."

Crowley nudged me with his foot. "I'll watch over them as best as I can."

I looked up, my eyes searching his. "You're really changed, huh?"

He smiled a little. "Thanks to you."

Dean called out. "C'mon - let's get going." He thumped the roof of the Impala before sliding into the driver's seat.

Sammy waited for me, his expression neutral.

I glanced over at Sam, leaning on the passenger door of Dad's truck. He gave a small smile, which I returned before getting into the back seat of the Impala and closing the door.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Kate…**_

I woke with a start.

Nonono, that's not really accurate.

I woke with my heart hammering, sweaty armpits, and an inability to breathe at a normal rate. I jumped, immediately falling off the seat and onto the floor, the middle of my back slamming into the hump separating the two footwells.

 _That_ was more accurate.

My brain tried like hell to remember what I dreamt. Lucifer? Hell? One of the jumps?

"Kate?! You okay?" Dean's tone was concerned and stunned, but there was a thick layer of amusement mixed in.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine." I grumbled, hauling my ass back onto the seat.

Sam (thank God I didn't have to call him Sammy on this trip) twisted around, looking me over. He caught me rubbing my back. I felt my cheeks burn, and he probably saw that, too. "What were you dreaming?" He used this soft voice that conveyed concern, but hid something more. It nagged at the back of my mind, but I dismissed it as another one of those _Poor, Kate_ tones I'd been listening to for a while.

I shrugged, flopping against the door and pressing my forehead against the glass. Closing my eyes, I muttered, "I dunno." I wasn't lying. I honestly couldn't remember.

Then Sam said something weird. "You wanna call him?"

My eyes snapped open in time to catch Dean's sideways glance. "Call who? Cas?"

 _Jesus Christ,_ why'd I say Cas?

Because you call Cas in your sleep all the fucking time.

But did _Sam_ know that?

Shaking his head, Sam said, "No. Your _other_ Sam."

It took me a few seconds to process what he said. Partly because it didn't make sense. And partly because it _really_ didn't make sense. I stared at him. "Why would I call him for falling off the back seat?"

Sam shook his head again with a soft snort. "Nevermind." He turned back around.

Ooooo-kay.

I cleared my throat. "Where are we?"

"About an hour left," Dean said, quickly looking over his shoulder at me. "You sure you're okay?"

I gave him a _look_...

...which he pointedly ignored. "Must've been some dream," was all he said.

Sighing, I looked out the window at the scenery blurring past. I couldn't remember any details at all, just a feeling of guilt and worry gnawing at me. It was fading, which was good, but the remaining bits left me uneasy.

I almost missed Dean's next question. "So. What really happened at this crypt?"

Wetting my lips, I asked, "What do you mean?"

Sam slightly turned his head toward the back seat. "You were kind of vague when we talked last night. You said it was crazy, Cas was ordered to make you feel distant from them, Crowley was there and a demon died. Before we go into this...even though we're not in the same reality, we should know as much as possible."

Blowing out a breath, I stared back out the window. He was right. Telling them as much as possible could potentially help. Keeping them in the dark didn't do anyone any good, other than sparing me from relaying another story. So I got it - they needed the info.

But I also suspected curiosity masked as "need to know" information. Which also...wasn't really a bad thing, either.

Even though it _did_ feel a little shady.

I dragged myself forward, until my chin rested on the front seat. "I don't know anything specific about the actual crypt. I wasn't there. I do know that the crypt was discovered by accident. We went to Lincoln Springs because a body was found with burned out eyes. It was a local historian, obsessed with locating information about the town's original layout. Turned out she was possessed by a demon. Crowley wanted the angel tablet, and suspected that Lucifer hid it in a crypt."

"Wait...if Crowley was looking for the tablet, who burned out her eyes? Isn't that an angel thing?" Dean was watching me through the rear view mirror.

And here we go. "Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"It was Cas."

Sam turned around. "Come again?"

I sighed _again_. "I told you Cas was being controlled by another angel in heaven, Naomi. She was making him also search for the tablet."

"Jesus...angels are turning out to be giant assholes," Dean muttered, reminding me of what my other Dean told me when I first got my memory back. _Dickbag angels come a dime a dozen, and they don't know how to leave shit alone._

"I know. Not all of them...but...yeah." I wasn't going to throw _my_ Cas in that pile. "But you know, it wasn't his fault. He...he wasn't in control of his actions." My mind wandered back to that night...almost forgetting where I was _now_. "When he and Dean went to the crypt, I remember staying in the motel room, wondering what was going on."

"Why didn't you go?"

I relayed it all in a somewhat disinterested tone, feeling like one of those summaries you read on a book jacket. But inside, all the emotions of that night rose to the surface as I remembered how Cas purposefully pushed me away from those brothers. Now I _did_ feel like calling my other Sam.

The Impala hit a bump. Dean swore, and I remembered where I was, who I was with, and that all of that was over a year ago. I ran a hand over my mouth (excellent...no drool!), and mentally shook myself. "But once Cas was free of Naomi, he cleared up all the misunderstandings, we scrambled out of town, and Kevin translated the second trial."

And, _scene_.

Sam folded his arms. "So the _real_ reason _we're_ going to _this_ crypt is because…"

"Because it's painful for them to go. There's no difference between the two that we know of, right? So it doesn't matter who goes to which. Besides...there might not even be a crypt here." I might have snapped off that answer.

A bit.

Maybe.

But seriously. It didn't matter who went where. We were going off alternate reality information. But if some of that alternate reality information was hurtful, why not avoid making it worse?

Sam huffed through his nose, but said nothing. In fact, he didn't say much more the rest of the drive.

And neither did I.

 **xxxxx**

I decided to pretend nap the rest of the way into town. Bringing up those memories left me in a _mood_ , so keeping some distance was the best way to not tank this entire trip. I opened my eyes when Dean parked the car and turned off the ignition.

A tacky sign for a Lodging Motel greeted me, flashing intermittently in the sunset. I choke-laughed.

"What?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

"This is where we stayed," I said, remembering the tackily lit sign.

"Huh," Dean answered, squinting out the window at the front lobby. "Apparently I have good taste in every reality. I'll get a room. Be right back."

The door protested as it opened and closed, leaving me and Sam alone in the car.

In silence.

In _dead_ silence.

Something was wrong. Sam and I _never_ sat in dead silence.

Like, _ever_.

But there we were, the only sounds coming from the Impala, slowly settling down after our long trip. I tried to come up with something to say, but nothing came to mind. I was still a little miffed at the tone from earlier, yeah, but...a little panic began to blossom. This never happened before - we always talked and shared and -

"I still don't get how ThatSam could be upset over the death of a _demon_ , who you said killed so many people we know and love."

 _Ouch_.

My brain clogged up with potential answers to the statement that was, by the second, turning into an accusation of some sort. What could I share? What _should_ I share? Did it matter? Was it a question ThatSam should answer? Was it my place to comment at all?

I thought I was doing the right thing by taking a minute to think through the different responses. But apparently, I was the only one who thought that.

" _Right_. I'm gonna go see what's taking Dean so long."

The car door opened, squealed shut, and I was alone in the Impala.

 _Fuck…_

I stared after him, mouth hung open a little, trying like hell to suss out what I did to deserve the shitty attitude. I kind of agreed with him - Meg was an asshole, plain and simple. But so was Crowley, right? And he changed. So...perhaps something shifted in Meg as well. I didn't know - I never met her. But I trusted ThatSam's judgement.

Besides, I wasn't about to launch into her potential existence here, and her potential alliance with Azazel, and her potential desire to alienate _My_ Sam from _me_.

I debated how to respond. Go after him and have it out? Apologize for...something? Pretend it didn't happen?

They came outside, Dean handing Sam a key card before tucking his own in a pocket. Sam tossed his head a little, scattering hair out of his eyes. Dean snaked an arm around his shoulder, squeezing real quick before gently cuffing him. Sam rolled his eyes, knocking Dean with his elbow.

 _Sigh_.

Pretend it didn't happen. My favorite option.

Sam's eyes flickered to me before getting in the car. I just blinked at him.

"Room twenty," Dean announced, starting the engine and neatly backing out of the parking spot. "Lemme guess. You stayed in that one." He shot me an amused glance over his shoulder.

I couldn't remember the room number, so I waited until he pulled up to it. "Nope...it was the one next door."

Dean barked a laugh. "Of course it was."

We grabbed our stuff and went inside. Layout was the same, but honestly, every motel's layout was the same, just different scratchy comforters and ratty carpet. I set the medkit on the floor in a corner and my bag on a recliner, determined to change into my pajamas and lounge away my headache.

Dean tossed _his_ bag in a corner and stretched. "I'm starving. I'll go grab dinner and beer. We'll checkout the location during the day, see what's what."

"Sounds good," I answered, also stretching.

"I'll go with," Sam casually offered, shrugging into a jacket he snagged from the trunk.

Dean's eyes ping ponged between us before saying, "Yeah, okay. Be back soon, Kate."

Sam left without a backwards glance.

With a sigh, I plopped onto the chair, massaging my temples. _Awesome_. That's when I decided a shower would help pass the time until the next round of awkward gatherings.

 **xxxxx**

The water pressure was pretty good, something I was confident Dean would mention after cleaning up. The warm water pummeled the muscles in my neck and shoulders, helping lessen the tension and headache that never seemed to go away. It'd been over a day since I left the wards, and the blood thrumming sensation was thankfully fading into the background, proving that the solution was a good one.

I sat on the edge of Dean's bed, passing a towel over my hair. I usually shared with Dean when we were on the road. Still couldn't call it "our" bed, though.

I was in the middle of rolling my eyes at myself when I felt the rustle of feathers. Castiel popped into view, eyes scanning the room.

"Hey Cas," I said, dropping my hands into my lap, smiling up at him.

When he realized we were alone, his shoulders relaxed. "Hello, Kate. How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, dragging my bag onto my lap. "Okay. Better, without the wards slamming against me. How about you?" I squinted up at him, trying to determine his level of recovery. I figured he'd be back to normal by now, but healing ThatSam sent him stumbling into the porch railing, so…

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm doing much better as well. I've been spending more time in Heaven, which has helped my grace replenish. I am pretty much back to normal, thank you." His hands tucked into the pockets of his trenchcoat.

I wasn't sure if he was dishing bullshit or not, and really, there was no way to tell. I just took his word for it. "Awesome."

"Where are your brothers?"

I waved a hand at the door. "Went to get dinner. We'll check out the crypt location tomorrow. It's late, we're tired, and...it's dark."

He nodded.

And then...yeah. _More_ dead silence.

Since we were told to keep our distance, I'd been working hard to keep my Cas thoughts neutral. Here we were, alone in a hotel room, and I had to stare at my hands and think about different ways to tie knots.

I dunno - that's just what came to mind.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

 _I just got my other Sam back and now we're separated and my Sam's acting weird and I miss the other Sam and feel guilty because I'm with these brothers and...I'd kind of like to kiss you..._

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Just...any news on the others?" Staring at my hands was a stupid choice, so I looked up and plastered a fresh smile on my face, which he kind of frowned at because, _right_ , Cas read me like an open book.

Cas shook his head. "No. Crowley and I agreed to maintain communication, but I have not heard from him yet."

I shifted and my bag dropped to the floor. Picking it back up, I unzipped it and began rooting around for a hairbrush.

"Kate?"

"Yeah?" I looked up at the angel, standing in the middle of this shitty motel room. Last time I was here with a Castiel…

"What can I do?"

That was not what I expected. "What do you mean?"

After a sharp exhale, Cas moved to sit on the opposite side of Dean's bed, keeping his distance physically, but his eyes locked onto mine, making his presence feel a lot closer. "To ease your mind."

Briefly, my eyes closed, and I took a steadying breath. When I opened them, I slowly let it out. "Nothing." His face fell. "But thank you."

We watched each other for a minute. _I_ knew that _he_ knew that there was more going on in my head than just Sam. Either of them. But what could I say? It was never the time to talk about...whatever he and I...I mean, we were…

...forbidden by Heaven, that's what he and I were. So nothing it was.

Lips pressed together, Cas ran a hand through his hair, scooting closer with this determined look on his face. "Look, Kate...I - "

The Impala's engine rumbled through the airwaves, filling the room with her arrival. Cas closed his eyes and sighed. With a flutter of feathers, he quickly moved across the room the instant the key slid through the lock, clicking and beeping the return of my brothers.

"Hey," Dean called out, spying me on the bed. "Got you grilled cheese. Wasn't sure what you'd tolerate." Then he caught sight of Cas. "Oh! Hey, Cas." He looked from me to Cas and back again. I saw gears turning and I shut that shit down immediately.

"Shove it, Dean," I growled, tossing the towel to the side. "He just got here."

Dean set down a twelve-pack of beer before raising his hands in mock surrender. "What? I didn't say anything." Behind him, Sam narrowed his eyes as he set two bags of food on the table.

Brow furrowed, Cas said, "I...don't understand."

Pushing past him with my hairbrush already digging through my hair, I muttered, "It's nothing. Ignore him."

From the bathroom, I could hear the three of them talking. No, Cas hadn't yet heard from Crowley. Yes, Cas will be watching the room tonight. No thank you, Cas did not want a chili hotdog.

 _Wait_. Chili hotdog?

I poked my head into the room. "What did you order?"

Dean grinned. "Chili hotdogs! Footlongs, too."

Sam shook his head, setting up what looked like a chicken sandwich and fries.

"Are you kidding me? You know what those things do to you." _Goddammit_. I was supposed to share a bed with him tonight.

Dean waved the carryout menu at me. "It's a local treasure, Kate. A local. _Treasure_. How was I supposed to turn that down?"

"Got chili on the fries, tooooo," Sam sang, taking a bite out of his sandwich, giving me a bland look.

I pointed the brush at Dean. "You're a dick."

At this point, Cas was thoroughly confused, Dean was thoroughly defensive, and I was thoroughly annoyed.

Sam swallowed, picked up his drink and said, in this nonchalant tone around the straw, "Just share with me tonight." It was so...offhanded, that I thought I misunderstood. He even shrugged as he said it.

But there was Dean, gesturing grandly, like that was a brilliant solution. "Thanks, Sammy." Then he tucked into his food.

I narrowed my eyes at Sam, who simply returned to _his_ food while avidly reading that menu propped against a paper bag. There was nothing on his face that gave away how he was feeling, so all I had were his words. I rarely shared with him. He flailed in his sleep. He _knew_ that.

Castiel cleared his throat, sensing something was up. "I'm...going to check back in with Heaven. However, I will keep watch, and if you need me," he looked right at me, "just call."

Rolling _my_ eyes, I tied my hair into something that could _maybe_ pass for a bun. "You always know before I do, Cas. No wards, right? So I'm sure I'll be loud."

"Loud how?" Dean asked, his mouth impossibly full. _How_ he picked up women in bars with food was beyond me.

"Loud none of your business," I snipped, dropping into a chair at the table and reaching for my dinner. At Dean's raised eyebrows and bulging cheeks, I added, in a softer tone, "I dream loud, okay?" The look on his face clearly said he had no idea what I meant.

Cas moved closer. "I could...you know...help you sleep…?" He sheepishly wiggled his fingers at me. I never should have started that finger movement thing.

Shaking my head, I opened my food container. "Noooooo, thank you. I don't want to be dead to the world." I paused, glancing up at him. "Just...you'll know if I'm...so just...you know."

There. Clear as mud.

But he understood, nodding his head, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

Sam, not missing a beat, murmured, "You'll be fine."

I was about to respond _How would you know?_ when Cas said, "I will return in the morning." And he left.

Rather than having Dean's lip smacking dominate the room, I snagged the remote off the TV and turned on whatever wasn't trying to sell us something. We continued to eat, watching the tube, trying to ignore Dean's insane delight at his dinner.

"That was fucking amazing," he sighed, burping into one fist while the other brought a bottle of beer to his lips.

" _You_ are fucking amazing," Sam quipped, shoving the last of his fries into his mouth.

After a long pull (through which he nodded), Dean belched yet again, and nodded at my dinner container. "And _you_ , dear sis, ate almost a full meal." He waggled his eyebrows, shoved the garbage from dinner into a bag, and staggered to his feet. "Jesus, I'm so full. But it was worth it." Another burp. " _Okay_. I'm gonna sit on the bed and let this...settle."

I watched him heave to the bed, bouncing on it with a grunt. I turned to Sam. "How are we even related?"

Sam snorted, balling up his own garbage. "I suspect we aren't, actually." He paused, jutting his chin at my food. "You did eat a lot, though."

I looked down. A quarter sandwich and a few fries stared back. "I wasn't paying attention. Probably too distracted by him." I thumbed at Dean, who gave me a thumbs up in return.

"Well, it's good. Means staying in the garage was a good idea." He stood, clearing _my_ garbage and shoving everything together. "I'll throw all this out."

When the door clicked shut behind him, I turned to Dean. "Hey. He seem okay to you?"

Dean's eyes dragged to mine. "When does he ever seem okay to you?"

"You know what I mean. He's been acting weird."

Dean's gaze flickered to the door. "I noticed. He hasn't said anything to me. Emo crap is your department."

I gave him a sour look. "Unless it's _about_ me."

Dean's head tilted from side to side. "True. I dunno. He's been on his high horse - " I snorted. " - telling all of us to give you space and be more understanding about that other Sam being here. But today...I dunno. He's been kind of _not_ that."

Not that?

I would've replied, but my phone rang. I dug it out from under some clothes I tossed on the chair.

 _OtherSam._

Fumbling in my haste to swipe a hello, I almost dropped the phone. "Hey…" That sounded casual, right? Not worried and anxious? Sure.

" _Hey there. How's it going?"_

"Good. We got in a little while ago...just ate dinner." I glanced at Dean who sat against the wall, one hand on his belly, the other unbuttoning his pants. We just can _not_ be related. "You?"

" _Another hour to go. We stopped for gas. How was the ride?"_

"Fine, not much to report, really. Dean stuffed himself full of - "

" _Lemme guess...chili dogs, right?"_

I chuckled. "How'd you know?"

Sam snorted. " _It took me a while to convince him that bringing chili into the room while you were still...unsettled...was a bad idea. He did eat one while we waited for the grilled cheese sandwiches, though. It was disgusting."_

"Ha. Well, same here." Dean tossed me a questioning look to which I blithely smiled. "How're things with Dad?"

" _Uh, good, actually. Crowley isn't in the truck, so it's just us. He, uh, had a lot of questions."_

I bet he did. "Is it okay?" I could see Dad grilling Sam on a dozen different topics, including Mary, Sam's stint with Lucifer, Azazel, demon blood powers, and maybe...maybe how he died.

Erg.

" _Yeah, it's good. We're actually...visiting. It's...yeah. I dunno. I don't think I've ever talked this much with him in my entire life. Figures I had to go to another reality to just have a conversation with my dad."_

Somewhere in the middle of all that, MySam came back inside. He raised his eyebrows, but ended up answering his own question. How did I know? His face sort of fell when he figured who I was talking to and he stiffly moved to his bed.

 _Goddammit_.

" _Did you check out the warehouse yet?"_

"No, it's dark and we're beat. And now Dean's too full to move." As if on cue, a disgusting sound came from Dean's side of the room. Let me be clear - it did _not_ come from his mouth. Grimacing, I added, "And he isn't in a position to be stealthy. We're gonna look around tomorrow. I'll text when we find something out."

" _Yeah, okay. Sounds good. You know, since you haven't dealt with yer, I doubt that Meg's around or anything else similar to when we were there, but keep your eyes open, just in case. If there_ _ **is**_ _a crypt in town, demons may be guarding it. So just...be safe, okay?"_

"Yeah...you too." I glanced up at Sam. At my words, he snatched his bag and stomped into the bathroom. The shower turned on, I imagined, in a huff. "I'll check in with you tomorrow."

We hung up.

I tapped my phone against my chin. Sam was definitely being pissy toward the Other Sam, despite being so understanding before. Something shifted his attitude, and I couldn't figure out what. He seemed fine with the decision to "move out". So what changed?

Honestly? I didn't have time for it. Bigger. Fish. OtherDean was missing, we could find information on the prophecies and maybe why demon blood is coursing through the huffy showerer. I needed to focus on that.

But...Sam was mad, and I didn't like it when Sam was mad. Particularly at me, and right before I was to share sleeping space.

That whole bigger fish metaphor got swallowed up by a million tiny, insecure, worried guppies.

After eating more food in one sitting than I had in a year, my gut felt like it was full of bricks, weighing me down. One glance at a glassy-eyed Dean, sprawled on his bed and I thought, with horror, did I look like that right now?

Egads.

With one last sigh, I dragged myself to Sam's bed (again, we're sharing, why wasn't it my bed, too?), set the phone on the nightstand, and crawled under the covers. Dean was too engrossed in a movie to say anything. Motel pipes creaked under the water pressure of Sam's shower, the only sound mingling with the TV.

I was _not_ counting the occasional body noise emitting from my brother.

It wasn't much later that Sam emerged from a cloud of steam, clearly unconcerned about the amount of hot water used. Without looking at me, he turned off the lights and climbed into bed.

The TV's glow cast shadows on the walls and ceiling, flickering with the movement on screen. Mental deliberations began over getting up to brush my teeth, when Sam's arm snaked across my body, pulling me toward the center of the bed. He tucked close, arm locking me in place.

I froze, not expecting the sudden forced cuddling. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell was going on, when his _leg_ tangled with mine.

Did Sam get possessed during his shower? Would muttering Christo ruin this apparent respite from the angst? The snarky questions paraded through my mind as I contemplated which to deliver.

But then...he swallowed hard, sniffed, and let out this...this ragged, exhausted sigh.

I... _Goddammit_.

I shifted a little to get more comfortable, which prompted a tighter squeeze, and we fell asleep.

 **xxxxx**

When I woke, the room was dark, but it felt like morning. As in, _time to get up_ morning. That meant I slept the whole night, which meant either Cas intervened or I had a good night on my own or...Sam, glued to my side, settled my unconscious brain.

Either way, I felt pretty good, stretching and twisting in an effort to loosen up. I was definitely feeling better. Not 100%, but better. Cuddling was great, even all night, but it left one's muscles a little cramped.

A note, scribbled on motel stationary in Dean's handwriting, informed me that the boys left for coffee and breakfast. At the bottom was a P.S. by Sam - _Brush your teeth._ I stuck out my tongue at the note. _He's_ the one who death-gripped me in bed all night, _preventing_ me from doing so.

Still, a quick run of my tongue over fuzzy teeth had me hoofing it to the bathroom right away.

By the time I was done cleaning up, they returned, chipper and seemingly in good spirits.

Dean gave me the once over as soon as I exited the bathroom. "How're you feeling?"

"What, no good morning?" I asked, shoving pajamas in my bag.

"Good morning stop being a bitch how're you feeling?"

 _Nice_. "I feel good."

Double flat looks right at me.

" _Okay_...headache is still there, my limbs still tingle, I'm tired, and sometimes my vision blurs."

Sam blinked. "That's feeling good?"

I blinked back. "Compared to two days ago? Fuck, yes. What'd you get me? I'm starving."

Dean slid a wrapped sandwich across the table with a sigh. "Your usual. And coffee." Dammit, did he forget the - "And here are your hash browns. Don't throw a tantrum." He dug into a bag and pulled out the fried starch. _Yesssssss._

I rushed over, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. I love you _soooo_ much." I winked at Sam before snagging my sandwich, grinning as Dean wiped the slobber off his face.

It felt normal. That was good, right? I wanted us to be normal again, and this definitely felt normal.

Sam pulled out a chair, indicating I should sit. "I did some research on the address."

"Yeah? What'd you find?"

Sam did that forehead crinkle thing. "It's weird. There are stores on either side of the address, but I'm not seeing a building there. I didn't get a reject on the address, but at the same time, there is nothing _at_ that address."

Huh? Frowning, I unwrapped my breakfast. "Then…?" The smell of grease and meat did not set off my stomach, so I happily bit into the sandwich.

"Not sure," Dean said, thankfully swallowing before continuing. "We definitely need to take a look."

A knock at the door halted further conversation. We actually looked at each other as if one of us knew who was.

"It's Castiel."

Our expressions morphed into _What The Hell?_ Dean got up, licking melted cheese off one hand, the other hastily wiped on his jeans before unlocking and opening the door. Cas stood there, awkwardly waving. "May I come in?"

Dean glanced at us over his shoulder before gesturing for Cas to enter. He was back in his traditional coat, hands thrust in his pockets.

"Uh, why didn't you just...you know...poof in here?" Sam asked. We all still stared at him, not understanding why he knocked.

Then I remembered him knocking at the apartment. Was this another attempt to not startle or upset us?

"Yes," Cas answered...out loud...to the question I posed to myself in my head.

I nodded. Sam asked, "Yes what?"

 _Fuck_.

"Yes, I am trying to avoid upsetting people by...popping in. Your father expressed a distaste for that the other day."

Sam just nodded back, continuing to eat. Dean motioned for Cas to sit. "You, uh, want something to eat?"

"No, thank you. I do not require eating. I will sit with you, though."

There was a few moments of serious discomfort before I broke. "Sam looked up the address. Apparently, there's no building there, but the address exists. We'll have to check it out to see what's going on."

Cas frowned. "If it _is_ a crypt, Lucifer may have taken measures to hide it."

Dean wadded up his wrapper. "Well, looks like we have an adventure on our hands. Finish up and let's get rolling."

 **xxxxx**

Dean pulled up to the address, parking against the curb across the street. We all looked out the Impala's windows.

There it was. Plain, brick, two-story building. No signs, no nothing. On one side was a convenient store, which sat on the corner. On the other, a dry cleaners. Pedestrians walked past, not even giving it a second glance.

Dean squinted at it. "Well...the store's 311, the cleaners is 315. Nothing in between."

"Yeah, that's weird," Sam said, glancing at his laptop screen. "I don't...I don't get it."

Cas and I exchanged a look. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "It's right there, in between them."

Now Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Uh...there's nothing there…"

We all looked to Cas, who was doing that deep staring thing. "Whether this is a crypt, I do not know. But someone took care to hide this building from humans."

"You see a building?" Sam asked, craning his neck in an attempt to see what we saw.

"Yeah…" I turned to Cas. "And I can see it because…" Cas finished my sentence with me. "...angel grace." I sighed. "Okay, well, any demons around? Or...other angels?"

Castiel's eyes went distant for a second. "No."

Dean slapped his thighs. "Alrighty, then. Let's take a closer look. Lead the way, because...I can't see a fucking thing."

We exited the car, trying to look casual. We crossed the street, looking this way and that, almost expecting a demon to yell, "Surprise!" just before stabbing us.

The closer we got, the more Sam and Dean squinted between the buildings.

"Anything?" I asked softly.

Sam shook his head. "No, nothing."

"What exactly do you see, Sam?" Cas asked.

"Well...it's like...I can see this store, and I can see the cleaners. If I try to look between them, everything goes blurry, and then my eyes just end up on the next building."

Dean peeked around the corner. "There's an alley in the back. Come on."

We trudged behind the buildings, grimacing at the puddle-ridden alley, lined with rusty dumpsters. The mystery building's door had what appeared to be a doorknob lock, fitted for a key.

"Still nothing?" I asked, "Because it's like, right there."

Dean stared at it, but it only lasted a couple seconds before his eyes danced away toward one of the businesses on either side. "Fuck, this is annoying. The harder I try to see it, the more I feel pushed away."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked, splaying his hands.

Again, we turned to Cas. "There are no wards that I can see," he said, "so that means the cloaking was done by a spell of some sort. I wonder…" An angel blade slid out of his sleeve, into his hand. He cautiously approached the door, touching the blade to the lock. There was a glow, then…

"Holy shit!" Dean exclaimed, jumping a little. When Sam shushed him, he added, in a softer tone, "I can see it now."

"Sam?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah...whoa...there it is. Okay, now what?"

Cas opened the door, looking at us over his shoulder. "We go inside."

After a quick glance up and down the street, I pulled my own angel blade, and we followed Cas through the door.


End file.
